A River Between
by WildRedPoppies
Summary: Privileged English heiress Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement—she wants the books back; he wants her.
1. The Children

**Synopsis**

**Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.**

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><p><strong>One day, clever scientists will be able to combine the DNA of Colin Firth and Robert Pattinson and create the perfect baby. By the time this perfect baby grows into the perfect man, I'll be much too old for him, and it'll be gross. But the idea, it pleases me. <strong>

**With this Edward, I was going for a modern day "Lord-of-the-Manorward", or "Manorward" for short if you're really chummy with him. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - The Children<strong>

_**Summer, 1993, England  
><strong>_

Five-year old Isabella Swan never liked snails. In fact, if you were to ask her what she thought of them, she would expressed her distaste with "Ewwwww" or "Icky". Yet today she found herself by the river that bordered her parent's vast estate, setting them back down on muddy banks that was their home.

Earlier in the day, she had seen the village boys with a large bag of river snails, flinging the poor creatures against a glass window to see which ones would stick and gleefully stomping on the ones that didn't (which was almost all of them) with a sickening crunch. It was in this moment that the child's compassion for the slimy molluscs outweighed her aversion and she quietly stole the bag when they were distracted with lunch.

So focused was she on her noble mission, she slipped on a mossy stone and fell into the river with a noisy splash. Thankfully, she was swiftly hauled out of the water and deposited onto a rock to drip-dry.

Shock and pain overwhelmed the little girl and she began wailing with the utter despair that only very young children can muster.

"Shhhhh, it's okay. You're all right now."

In her wretchedness, Isabella had forgotten about her rescuer. She opened her eyes to a rather solemn-faced boy, a few years older than her, with blond hair and the most serious grey-green eyes she had ever seen in a child.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Edward Cullen. I live there." The boy pointed to an elegant Georgian mansion on the other side of the river, the roof of which was just visible from the river bank.

"But that's where the Bad People live!" Isabella, like all five-year-olds, repeated what their parents told them and could not be relied on for diplomacy.

"I'm not bad! I saved you!" Edward was indignant. "Father says I'm the most responsible boy he knows. What's your name?"

"My name is Isabella Swan, but Mrs Cope calls me Bella." The sound that emerged was rather closer to "Bewwa".

"I am FIVE this year." She stuck out her hand and stretched all five muddy fingers, the way Mrs Cope taught her to. Bella was very glad to turn five indeed. Not only was she a Big Girl now and allowed to eat her dinner on a proper china plate with roses painted around the edge, five fingers were so much easier to show than four.

The boy's eyes widened, and then cast downwards in disappointment.

"Oh, you're a Swan. We can't be friends then."

"Why not?" Bella had conveniently forgotten about calling Edward "Bad People" only moments ago.

"Father said the Swans don't like the Cullens, so I shouldn't bother them if I ever see them."

"_I _like you. Will you help me put the snails back?" she said pointing at the bag.

"Yes! I like helping people. Father said I'm a Cullen, so I have to be good and helpful to everyone... you're bleeding!"

Sure enough, Bella had cut herself when she fell into the river and blood was trickling down a long thin wound along her inner forearm.

Edward produced a neatly-pressed white handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wrap it tightly around her forearm.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. You hurt yourself in _my_ river. Father says I have to take care of the people on our land."

Bella was about to protest his claim to the river. Hadn't Daddy always said that the river belonged to the Swans?

"You should go home and get that cleaned up." Edward said regretfully. He was the only son and didn't have many children to play with. He was sorry to see his pretty new friend go.

Bella brightened. A bleeding wound was an excellent way of getting her normally distracted mother to fuss over her.

"Okay Edwood. I'm gonna go now. Don't forget me. Bye!"

Edward climbed up a tree to watch her arrive home safely. Coming down deftly, he gently liberated the rest of the forgotten river snails. He skipped home with a light heart, knowing all the while he would be chided for playing in the river and ruining his brand new shoes.

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><p><strong>This is pretty much the first thing I've ever written, so...manage your expectations ya? <strong>


	2. The Feud

**Synopsis**

**Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.**

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><p><strong>My pre-reader went through this chapter and asked, "Ermmm, why does the writing sound so RegencyJane-Austen?". It'll get better when the story shifts to modern day, I promise. Otherwise, you can go Regency on **_**my**_** ass and call me a ninnyhammer. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - <strong>**The Feud**

The Swans and the Cullens numbered amongst the oldest families in the county. Though untitled, both families owned large tracts of land and enjoyed positions of prominence in the community. Before their rather spectacular falling out, they were friendly neighbours and indeed, friends. One fateful night in 1838, James Swan and Lawrence Cullen enjoyed a rather inebriated game of cards. Never a lucky gambler, James had already lost all his cash, his gold pocket watch and his ivory snuffbox when Lawrence challenged him to a final round. Having nothing else left on his person, he glanced out of the window and was inspired to wager the Swan's half of the river. Since both the Swan and the Cullen properties bordered the river, they shared equal rights to it. James, predictably enough, lost. The next morning, the two heirs shook hands like gentlemen. James honoured his lost wager while Lawrence graciously promised to let him fish whenever he wanted and no hard feelings lingered.

This cordial state of affairs would have remained if not for the unusual rainstorm later that year. A nearby canal was destroyed by the flood and several local mill owners who usually relied on the canal to transport their goods now required access to the river to do so. The Cullens, now the sole owner of the river, were paid a generous sum for the privilege. While the amount was not a large fortune, it was enough for the Cullens to buy more land to add to their estate and make improvements to their already beautiful mansion. Previously equal in land and fortune, the Swans suddenly found themselves the lesser neighbour. Bitterness grew and words were exchanged. James accused Lawrence of deliberately plying him with wine to take advantage of his inebriated state. Lawrence called James a degenerate, a drunk, a liar and a damned fool. Challenges to a duel were issued, though fortunately neither man was brave enough to actually pick up a pistol. Matters came to a real head when Lawrence humiliated James by sending his men to chase the latter away when he tried to fish in the river. Thus, the die was cast.

The families continued to feud down the generations. One particularly memorable episode occurred in 1890 when the Swans painstakingly removed every blossom head off Arabella Cullen's pride and joy rose garden, the night before her famous annual garden party. This provoked an equally creative counter-attack in which the Cullens stuffed horse manure into the flower boxes outside all the windows of the Swan mansion. The foul-smelling rooms could not be sufficiently aired in time for Sir Spencer's visit. The eminent gentleman was later heard to remark that the Swan mansion gave him "a _true_ taste of the country air".

Though the details of the original disagreement were lost over time, the bad feelings remained, particularly for the Swans.

Carlisle Cullen, more sensible than most of his ancestors, tried to put matters right when he inherited the estate. He extended an olive branch by inviting Charles Swan, a keen fisherman, to fish in the river as much as he wanted. Although Charles took advantage of the offer, for him, generations worth of wounded family pride was not so easily appeased. After his initial foray into peacemaking failed, Carlisle thought it better to just let matters rest. At the very least, the volleying of pranks stopped and an uneasy truce was reached between the two families.

After their first chance encounter as children, Edward and Bella did not speak to each other again. Both were sent to boarding schools and it was only in the summer holidays that they would see each other from across the river. On a beautiful day, Bella loved nothing more than to sit under her favourite tree by the the river (incidentally the very same tree he had climbed as a child to watch her leave) with a book and an apple. Edward rode his horse frequently and would stop by the river across from where she sat to let his horse rest and drink. They acknowledged each other's presence with the barest civility; she would look up from her book with a tight smile and a curt nod, he would touch a hand to his riding helmet with a slight bow.

And so it was, the heirs of Swan and Cullen watched each other grow into adults without speaking a single word to the other.

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><p><strong>This is my first fic ever, so your reviews would be greatly encouraging for me :) <strong>


	3. The Reunion

**Synopsis**

**Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.**

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><p><strong>Many thanks to the early readers of this fic! <strong>

**This chapter is a little more angsty than the previous ones, but hang in there, we'll get through it! I solemnly promise there will be more Manorward after this. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - The Reunion<strong>

_**Winter, 2010**_

Bella stood in the middle of her father's library, trying to memorise as much detail as she could. The scent of old books, oak shelves and her father's cologne overwhelmed her and she felt the prickle of tears before she firmly pulled herself together.

These were her last precious moments in the Swan mansion and she would not waste them crying.

No one had known how deeply the late Charles Swan was in debt. In his obsession with restoring the Swans to their former glory, he had mortgaged the house and its contents to the hilt, investing in scheme after scheme, all of which had collapsed in the economic downturn. In his last months, as if sensing his days were numbered, Charles had also engaged lawyers to sue the Cullens in a last ditch attempt to recover the Swans' river rights. It was a futile endeavour that only deepened their financial woes. Bella had been ignorant of all this, but she had felt her father withdraw into himself in the months before his fatal heart attack, had worried about the hours he spent holed up in his study. The full magnitude of the family's financial ruin was only discovered in the lawyer's office after the funeral. Isabella Swan, former heiress, was left with nothing.

Bella and her mother moved into a small cottage on the edge of the Swan estate which had been transferred under Renee's name for tax purposes. The cottage was damp and draughty, with only an ancient boiler-heater on its last legs. Even so, Bella knew that she should be grateful to have a roof over her head, even a leaky one, in the middle of winter.

She shuddered to think what would have happened to them without the cottage. They had no one to turn to, just some distant cousins on her mother's side, the Blacks.

Bella's mother Renee Swan had taken her change in circumstances badly. Having never worked a day in her life, she had transitioned from daughter of the manor to lady of the manor when she married Charles Swan straight out of finishing school. Her entire world had been her husband and the estate. With him gone, she tried to cling on the remnants of her old life by refusing to move out of the mansion. When finally persuaded by Bella to do so, she had wanted to take with her the heavy heirloom bedroom set.

"Mummy," Bella had said gently, "you can't take the furniture. It belongs to the bank now, remember? It wouldn't have fitted in the cottage anyway."

Renee channelled her grief into an increasingly irrational rail against the Cullens. It was their fault, she reasoned. If the Cullens had agreed to give up their river rights, Charles wouldn't have had to spend money suing them. He wouldn't have been stressed about their finances, wouldn't have had his heart attack.

_Oh Daddy_, Bella thought, _why didn't you tell me? I could have helped_.

Bella felt a sharp pang of guilt. In the last few years, while her father had been struggling alone with crippling debt, the heavy legacy of a large, crumbling house and an unprofitable estate, she had been occupying herself with the study of literature. The beautiful world of words she had built around herself pursuing her degrees now seemed hollow and indulgent.

Bella was broken out of her reverie by voices outside the library door.

"I'm sure the bank wouldn't mind me showing you the house before it's officially on the market...after all everybody knows the Cullen name around these parts...they were very pleased you bought the entire library, you know...with the economy now, old books would be very hard to sell..."

The estate agent's voice was swollen with the gleeful expectation of making a quick sale.

_The Cullens bought Daddy's books! Everything collected and loved by generations of Swans. Books I grew up with. Books that should have been mine._

Just then, she spotted Carlisle and Edward Cullen by the door of the library. The estate agent had gone ahead, oblivious to her presence, leaving the Cullens looking surprised and then chagrined at being caught picking through the ruins of her family's downfall.

Carlisle looked pained and mumbled his condolences before leaving to join the agent. Edward however, approached her.

This was the first time Bella had seen him up close since their first meeting as children. She had always known he was tall, but didn't realise just how he would tower over her until he stood right before her. His broad frame seemed to blanket her vision. She was hit with his smell - the sharp scent of the outdoors mingled with a whiff of wood fire.

Too close. Too much.

She took a step back instinctively and lifted a proud chin to meet his gaze. The blonde hair of his childhood had darkened into a deep bronze. His eyes though, were as serious as ever.

"Bel...Miss Swan, I'm so sorry. This must seem so...we didn't know you would be here. How is your mother doing?"

His voice too, was new to her.

"She's as well as can be expected. Thank you for asking, Mr Cullen." The Swans might be poor now, but Bella was still determined to behave with civility, however frostily bestowed.

Edward glanced around, as if realising for the first time he was in the library.

"We've bought your family's books. Your father...he had excellent taste. I just wished we could have been acquainted with his library under more pleasant circumstances."

The mention of her father brought a wave of renewed sorrow in Bella. With it came a rising rage. _How dare he come into our house and gloat about buying our things! _

Edward continued, desperate to break the suffocating tension between them. "You loved this library, didn't you. You always have a book in your hand." Bella barely registered his observation of her habits. She was too busy trying not to cry.

"Listen, I don't know if this is appropriate, but I need some help cataloguing this collection and my family's as well...you have a Masters in Literature...I thought maybe you would want to see these books properly taken care of..."

Bella snapped, "You're right, Mr Cullen, it's not appropriate. My father is barely cold in his grave before you Cullens…I'm sure there will be plenty of candidates in the village for that sort of work." Her eyes threatened to well up again.

_Don't cry in front of the Cullens. Daddy wouldn't want a Swan brought low in front of a Cullen_.

"I'm so sorry, I...I just thought maybe you'd like a job... if it hadn't been me, somebody else would have bought the books. The bank wanted to sell them separately, I thought it was better that it stayed together as a collection...my apologies. Please give my regards to Mrs Swan."

He gave her a stiff nod and left the room with long strides.

Left alone, Bella could finally cry.


	4. The Job

**Synopsis**

**Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - <strong>**The Job**

The cash till at Newton's Mini Market had been ringing non-stop all morning. It had very little to do with the goods the little convenience store had to offer. Rather, the village had been out in force to catch its newest cashier, Miss Isabella Swan, formerly of Swan Manor, in action on her first day at work.

Bella was fully aware she would become the village freak show when she took the job. Her mother would be horrified if she ever found out, but she had no choice. They needed the money and this was the only job available in Forks. Mike Newton whose gaze on her always lingered a little too long whenever she passed through the village, was only too happy to give it to her.

Most of the villagers bought small items. Gum. Sweets. A bottle of water.

Old Mrs Sheen bought a pair of flip flops that was inexplicably on sale in a minimart deep in the English countryside. Old Mrs Sheen. Flip flops. In the middle of winter.

The curious glances didn't bother Bella as much as the attention from the young men. When she was an heiress, she was considered beyond the reach of the village boys. Now destitute and working in a local shop, she was fair game, a damsel-in-distress ripe for rescuing. It was always studiously casual. An overly bright smile here. An off-handed compliment there. A faux-jokey invitation to the pub to test her reaction. By the end of the morning, Bella's patience had reached breaking point.

The annoying door chime announced the arrival of yet another customer, one that she especially did not want to see.

Edward Cullen.

His cheeks and lips were flushed from the biting winter air, his hair tousled by the wind. There was an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye as he gave her a surprisingly warm smile, as if greeting an old friend.

If Bella hadn't been so sure he was here to gloat at her, she would have been charmed.

He grabbed a bag of apples before casually strolling towards the cash till.

_Doesn't he have a housekeeper to buy stuff like that? _Bella thought irritatedly.

"You know, I took your advice." Edward began unhurriedly.

_What advice?_

"I advertised in the village for someone to catalogue my library. There were a few applicants but only one anywhere _near_ qualified for the job – Jessica Stanley, perhaps you know her?"

Of course Bella was familiar with Jessica Stanley, as were most of the young men in the village she imagined. Jessica was blonde and fond of the micro-mini skirts that were completely inappropriate for the English weather, especially in the countryside. As she looked at the tall, striking man in front of her, Bella realised with a pang that Jessica was probably using the job to get close to the Cullen heir.

"Anyway, I interviewed her in the library. When I walked in, she was holding a mug of tea and a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Your father's copy in fact, the gilt-tooled one."

Bella knew exactly which book he was referring to. An exquisite 1907 edition, cloth-bound with ornate gilding on the cover and delicate colour illustrations by Charles E Brock. Her favourite book in the entire library.

_No, not my father's copy_, Bella thought bitterly. _Mine_. _He bought it for my 21__st__ birthday. He kept it with the rest of the collection because he assumed I would one day inherit everything anyway._

"So, I asked her whether she liked _Pride and Prejudice_ and she started going on and on about how Darcy wasn't hot enough for Keira Knightley and how Wickham was much hotter, and how she didn't understand why they were so sweaty all the time. It took me a while to realise that she was talking about a _movie_. I asked her about the book – turned out she didn't even know there was a book. "

He paused. Bella was sure the question was written all over her face. If she didn't know there was a _Pride and Prejudice_ book, why the heck was she holding _her_ vintage 1907 edition? What did she think it was, the freaking _movie companion_? Bella prayed desperately that Jessica Skank Stanley's hands were clean when she handled the book.

"She didn't want to stain my table with her tea mug. She was about to use it as a _coaster_. I stopped her in time."

The vein on Bella's forehead throbbed visibly.

Edward continued nonchalantly, "I could train her, I suppose. It's a shame you didn't want the job. There aren't many people with Masters in Literature in the village. None, in fact, apart from you.

"Well, I suppose I better get back before she tries to use my _Ulysses_ as a place mat. Good to see you again."

He was baiting her, she was sure of it.

Bella looked around the shop. From the harsh fluorescent tubes to the shelves of almost-expired junk food that she herself would never have touched. She glanced behind her to see Mike staring at her legs.

She caught up with Edward just as he was driving off.

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><p><strong>The Pride and Prejudice movie Jessica was talking about is the 2005 one directed by Joe Wright starring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen. The director made a controversial decision to portray English country realism, hence the sweaty characters, messy hair, muddy hems and wandering poultry. <strong>

**The vintage copy of Pride and Prejudice Jessica almost used as a coaster also exists. It's published by Dent. The particular one I found on the internet (there are cheaper copies of the same edition) retails for £2,000 or US$3,200. I may post pictures of it on my profile once I've figured out how to do so! **

**I'm trying to post a teaser of Chapter 5 on fictionatorsdotcom. Hope that goes through. **

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><p><strong>Reviews are better than receiving news that Colin Firth won the Oscar. <strong>

**Ok no, not really, he totally deserved to win :) **


	5. The Library

**Synopsis**

**Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - The Library <strong>

Bella didn't want to like the Cullen library. She really didn't. But from the moment she stepped in, she felt utterly at home.

She had been fretting about the logistics of working for Edward. They had agreed on secrecy but how would she get in and out of the mansion without being seen by his household staff? What about his family? How long before her mother found out? There was a distinct possibility that Renee Swan would rather starve than have her only daughter work for a Cullen.

This was before Edward calmly led her to the back of the Cullen mansion, where they stood before a nondescript door half-obscured by shrubbery and climbing vines.

Behind the door lay a dusty, narrow passageway. Just as Bella was regretting her decision to follow a near stranger into a strange old house, Edward arrived before another door at the end of the passageway and gave the ancient-looking lever next to it a sharp tug. To her complete amazement, the door swung open to reveal a room full of bookshelves. They had entered the library through a secret passageway! From the other side, the door was seamlessly concealed behind a bookshelf. She had only _heard_ of old houses with hidden passageways before, so the childish excitement she felt at encountering one in real life was almost embarrassing.

"I suppose you are aware," Edward mused, "that in the old days the library was the equivalent of the modern man-cave, and a gentleman would spend a lot of time there. I used to imagine my ancestors here, reading worthy books during the day, having brandies and cigars after dinner at night. Since I discovered this concealed door, I've been wondering what mischief they got up to when the ladies thought they were in the library!

"It's a Cullen men's secret," he confided, "passed down from father to son. You are the first woman to know about this." With a small smile, he added, "You must carry this to the grave with you."

The library consisted of two spaces. Both the main and concealed doors open into the first, a long room with row upon row of laden shelves on either side. This led into the second room, which was a larger space with high ceilings and generous windows along one wall. Mahogany bookshelves lined every available wall space. A lit fireplace was surrounded by a sofa, a couple of comfortable leather armchairs and ottomans. A baby grand piano stood in one corner, an oversized antique globe in another. Plants, lamps of varying sizes and oriental rugs were scattered throughout. It was a grand room, with its chandeliers, antique furniture and obvious pedigree. It would have been stuffy, except for the fact that it was so _lived-in_. There were piles of books and papers everywhere, cushions were askew, a jacket was flung carelessly over a chair and one armchair still bore the indentation of its last occupant. Bella smirked a little. Edward Cullen was _messy_.

"So, what do you think?" Edward asked, leaning against a beautiful 19th century walnut desk.

"Hmmm." Bella made a non-committal sound as she ran a casual finger along the spine of a leather bound volume. She resolved to appear unimpressed, but what she _really_ wanted to do was to grab as many books as she could carry and find a cosy spot on the sofa in front of the fire to read.

"Edward, does anyone else come here?" Bella was still worried about word getting back to her mother .

"This library is my private space. We are in a quiet wing of the house, you don't have to worry about being seen. I'll instruct the staff to clean the library in the morning and to keep it strictly out of bounds in the afternoon."

They came to an agreement: Bella was to work from 1pm to 4pm every weekday until the entire library was catalogued and the two collections integrated. This included tasks like creating electronic records of all the books and organising titles by subject categories. Edward also wanted Bella's opinion on new acquisitions, gaps in the collection to fill and what to trim to make room for the new stock.

The responsibility of curating another family's much loved legacy daunted Bella.

"I'm not sure I'm up to this, Edward, I'm not a qualified librarian or a curator. I just love books and words..."

"And that's enough for me. Isabella, this is not a dead archive sitting in a museum somewhere. It's mine to enjoy, for the next forty years, if I'm lucky. I need to preserve what's been passed down to me but I also want to add to it, leave my mark on it. I want the opinion of someone who loves books as much as I do, someone who understands _this_." Edward threw his arms open in a gesture that encompassed his library, his family, his entire legacy.

Bella nodded, finally understanding. For the first time in a long while, she felt a prickle of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

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><p>Bella made up a story about working in a nearby village's library to explain her afternoon absences to Renee. Renee had grumbled about the humble nature of the job but eventually had to concede that they needed the money. Bella could only hope that Renee, who had always considered herself above the villagers, did not decide to start speaking to them.<p>

Moving away for a full-time job, or even taking on one nearby was not an option for Bella because of her mother. Apart from being severely depressed, Renee struggled with the day-to-day household chores she had previously hired other people to do. Almost as spoiled, Bella only stood in slightly better stead because of the last few years she had spent fending for herself in university. She had to teach her mother to separate the colours in a wash, and to never microwave aluminium foil or eggs.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Bella. Renee had always been more of a wife than a mother. She had left the upbringing of her only daughter to her husband, the nanny, the housekeeper and later, boarding school. In a complete reversal of roles, Bella woke Renee up every morning, made her breakfast and helped her with her gardening, the only activity that could rouse Renee from her stupor. After making sure her mother was fed and suitably occupied, Bella set off for work.

The Cullen mansion was a mere 15 minutes' walk away along a little-used footpath. Even so, Bella was grateful to get into the warm library with its roaring fire and smell of old books. It was a world away from her mother, the leaking cottage and their financial worries.

Bella had not expected to see Edward everyday but it seemed that he spent more and more time in the library, even bringing in his laptop to work on. He initiated conversations, but quickly realised that he would be rebuffed unless the topic was directly related to the library. Though she kept him at arm's length, Bella was surprised by how articulate and well-read he was. This, she decided, made him even more dangerous. They could easily become friends, which would further confuse her already conflicting feelings about him, their rivalling families and the fact that he now owned the book collection that was rightfully hers.

And then there was the matter of his behaviour. His annoying, considerate, gentlemanly behaviour. At the end of her first day at work, he had insisted on walking her home, pointing out that the footpath was unlit and isolated. When she vehemently refused, he followed behind her anyway, always leaving a few metres' distance between them.

"What are you doing? I told you, I'm fine, I don't _need_ your help!" Bella had stomped up to him in a huff.

"It's a public footpath, Isabella. If I want to take a walk at 4 o'clock everyday, you can't stop me."

Bella had given up fighting him on the matter, but perhaps she was just a _little_ relieved that she wouldn't have to walk home alone in the dark.

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><p>Bella came across a volume of Auden's work on the shelves one day, and couldn't resist reading the last two stanzas of a favourite poem out loud.<p>

.

_He was my North, my South, my East and West,_

_My working week and my Sunday rest,_

_My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;_

_I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong._

_.  
><em>

_The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,_

_Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,_

_Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;_

_For nothing now can ever come to any good._

_.  
><em>

She closed her eyes, savouring the after-taste of the words on her tongue.

"That was lovely."

Bella started. Edward must have walked in while she was engrossed in Auden. And now he stood, leaning against the darkwood shelf, his face unreadable. The silence between them was thick as Bella's face flushed with heat. She hated that he caught her in a vulnerable moment.

"Isabella, I have a proposal for you."

She frowned as he continued, "My work running the estate is stressful...I miss having time to read." He straightened and took a deep breath. "Will you...will you read for me? Maybe just for an hour a day, after your usual work?"

It must have been obvious that she was about to refuse, as he added quickly, "One book, from your father's collection. One book a week for your time. Any book."

"Any book?" Her heart skipped a beat. This was too good to be true.

"Any book except for his first edition of _The Great Gatsby. _That one's staying."

Bella wrestled with her conscience, "Edward, you know that some of these books are worth a small fortune right?"

Edward gave a small shrug, never taking his eyes off her.

There was really no other answer she could have given.

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><p>"You missed a line."<p>

"What?"

This was the second week of their reading sessions. Everyday at 4pm, Edward would be seated in the leather armchair by the fireplace, a drink in his hand. No matter how tense he was when he first entered the library, at 4, he would be there, looking up at her from his armchair with an expectant smile on his face. They took turns picking the material. They read everything – poetry, novels, plays. They had chuckled through the witty dialogue of Oscar Wilde, lamented the hero's tragic end in Jude the Obscure, marvelled over the beauty of Shakespeare's sonnets. Bella found it hard to sustain her animosity towards Edward when she was reading. It was as if time froze when they sat in front of the fire. The words wove a spell over them and kept the outside world at bay. Allegiances, family grievances, responsibilities were all set aside and they were simply, Edward and Bella. The walk back to Bella's cottage afterwards was always conducted in silence, as if by not speaking they could preserve the spell for that much longer.

Today, they were reading John Donne. Edward got up from his armchair to sit beside her on the sofa. He leaned over and tapped a finger at a line in her book.

"You missed a line of the poem. Here, 'For thou thyself art thine own bait_'_."

His hair tickled the side of her face as he moved closer to the page to read.

"Oh" was all she could manage. If she let out the breath she was holding, the bare skin on their hands would touch.

He withdrew his hand but did not move away. He spoke quietly, "Thank you for obliging me with John Donne today. You have a beautiful reading voice."

The scar on her arm caught his eye. Using only the barest pressure of his fingertips, he held her forearm and turned it towards the light so that the wood fire threw the ridges of her faint scar into relief.

"Do you remember how we met? As children?" A hazy memory of falling into the river flickered in Bella's mind.

"I suppose you were too young to remember the details. I fished you out after you fell into the river." Edward chuckled lightly. "You were too busy liberating snails to notice where you were walking. You even roped me into helping you."

Bella's eyes brightened with the memory. "Oh the snails! What happened to them?"

"I freed the rest of them, like I promised you. Before you left, you also told me not to forget you." Edward paused, gazing intently into her face. "I never did."

They sat staring at each other. Edward parted his lips, as if to speak. Just then, a sudden gust of wind threw a branch against the window with a violent noise, startling them both. They did not speak again that day.

That night, before she went to sleep, Bella pulled a box out from under her bed. She rummaged through the pieces of ribbon, seashells, notes scribbled with childish scrawls before she found the white handkerchief. It had been washed, but the shadow of blood stains remained.

Bella gently traced the initials embroidered into the corner, "E A C ",and laughed. Who gave a child monogrammed handkerchiefs? Maybe one day she'd discover what the "A" stood for.

As she clutched the yellowed piece of linen that belonged to the sweet, earnest boy she met 18 years ago, she wondered about the man he had grown up to become.

* * *

><p><strong>The poem Bella was reading when Edward surprised her was "Funeral Blues" by WH Auden. It was featured in the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral". Sounds lovely read in a Scottish accent, doesn't it? :) (Btw the funny dots in between the stanzas are just there to create a break between them. I'm still struggling with ffn's formatting)<br>**

**The poem Bella missed a line reading was "The Bait" by John Donne. **

**If you don't remember the handkerchief, in Chapter 1, young Edward used his pristine handkerchief to bandage Bella's bloody arm after he fished her out of the river.**

**Pictures of the Pride and Prejudice mentioned in Chapter 4, Cullen library and concealed library door are available on my profile.**


	6. The Swineherd

Many thanks to **BelleDean** and **Alzzu **for their reccs on ADifferentForest and Fictionators respectively.

Many thanks to **Songster** who gave me excellent, detailed comments for the first 5 chapters.

Thanks to all the lovely readers who left such kind reviews. As one would say in Manor-ward's country, I am chuffed to bits (translated to American English: "I am very pleased").

**Warning: The following chapter contains more swearing than I have ever typed in my life.**

Long chapter, but it should pay off at the end :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 – The Swineherd<strong>

Bella Swan was having a very bad day. First, she had bickered with her mother in the morning. The unusually cold weather had kept Renee indoors and in a testy mood. Mother and daughter had never spent an extended period of time together in such close proximity. Bella didn't know which was worse- the fighting, or staring out of the window at the rain. The incessant rainfall had also worsened the leaks in the cottage and the number of jars and pans on the floor collecting the drips grew steadily. In some areas, one could not walk straight but had to dance around the leaking spots like a crazed marionette. Worst of all, the ancient boiler they relied on to heat the cottage had finally broken down. The plumber would have to be called. The plumber would have to be paid. Bella decided that the next book she collected from Edward in exchange for their reading sessions would have to be something that didn't hold any sentimental value for her, something she could sell.

She heaved a sigh of relief as she opened the back door of the Cullen mansion with the key Edward had given her. She ignored the puddles her dripping waterproof jacket left on the floor of the secret passageway and threw her weight into yanking the lever that opened the library door with a practised motion. Squelching her way into the library, she thought woefully to herself that if someone came into the library now, the secret door wouldn't be a secret any more, for her wet footprints clearly led from it.

Ahhhhh the library! Unlike the cottage, it was always warm. The wood fire was a constant source of delight for her. Besides keeping the large room toasty, it also emitted the most delicious aroma, the same aroma that Bella remembered from meeting Edward just weeks ago. It was a smell she would forever associate with him.

She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the flowers on the piano. She had been noticing changes in the library. First, it had became tidier. Papers were stacked and straightened. She no longer had to leap over piles of books to reach the shelves. Then, the flowers started appearing. Colourful arrangements brightening the winter gloom were discreetly positioned, not on the desk where she worked, but further away in her direct line of sight. Bella wondered a little guiltily if her presence had made Edward so self-conscious that he felt the need to tidy and prettify what was previously a masculine sanctuary.

She walked towards the side-table where a silver tray was daintily laid out with bone china tea ware. A small treat was always included alongside the tea things. Sometimes it was biscuits, other times cake, occasionally some beautiful chocolate truffles. When Bella asked about the tea tray, Edward had waved away her question, joking that access to tea was an inviolable right for the English workforce and that without the fortifying drink the country would grind to a halt.

_Oooooh, it's macarons today. _Bella licked her lips at the sight of the little pastel-hued confectioneries stacked neatly in their pink box. She would have her tea earlier today.

The macaron-induced mood high did not last for long. 3 hours later, Bella could be heard swearing a storm at the computer which had crashed and wiped out her afternoon's efforts.

It was a terrible waste of macarons. Although Bella vaguely recognised the name printed on the pink box, she did not realise that the delicate confectioneries were made exclusively in Switzerland and had been ordered from Zurich especially for her.

* * *

><p>Edward Cullen was also having a very bad day.<p>

He had just received news that the major supermarket chain his farms supplied was demanding yet another round of price cuts. He wondered how many small farms would be undone by this blow, or gobbled up by larger conglomerates with better margins and bargaining power. It was lucky that the Cullens had other businesses to buffer their finances. He then thought about the tenants he visited earlier that day. The unseasonable frost had burst the water pipes in some of the older cottages on the estate. Though his estate manager took care of the repairs, Edward knew it was necessary to assure the tenants personally that everything possible was being done. In a small village where the Cullens' wealth was so visible, he knew that he had to take extra care to pre-empt any gossip or resentment.

He passed some glaziers doing repair work on the mansion's large Georgian windows. He sighed. It was one of the disadvantages of living in such an immense 200-year-old house – the repair work was never-ending, and bloody expensive. He could only hope that his library wouldn't need work done any time soon.

The library. His sanctuary. He quickened his steps and checked his watch.

5 minutes to 4 o'clock.

Bella should be getting ready for him now. The thought made him smile.

That was until he pushed open the library door and was greeted thus by a sweet voice he had only ever heard recite poetry,

"Fuck-fuck-fucking-bugger-buggity-buggity-fuck-fuck-ARSE! Balls-balls-fucking-shitty-shit-TITS! I HATE you you motherfucking computer!"

He immediately turned on his heels and headed for the cellar. Once there, he took great care in choosing a bottle of wine. Back in the library, he found Bella sprawled on the sofa with an arm thrown over her eyes. She had not yet chosen a book.

He presented the bottle before her with a mock-elaborate flourish that would rival that of the most obsequious wine waiter.

She read the label and widened her eyes.

_Château Margaux 1985_

"Oh, fuck, yes, please." Premier Cru wine was a luxury she could no longer afford.

Because they both had such a bad day, they decided, on a whim, to stray from their usual reading list of classics and pick Hans Christian Andersen's "Fairy Tales". The copy from the Cullen library was a 1916 edition, richly illustrated by Harry Clarke. Edward and Bella admired the sumptuous colour plates before settling on "The Swineherd".

"The Swineherd" is a satirical tale about a poor prince who wants to marry a proud princess. She rejects him because the gifts he presents before her are natural, rather than made-man. The prince then disguises himself and works as a swineherd at the palace. He creates elaborate toys and convinces the princess to pay him in kisses in exchange for the toys. The Emperor, disgusted that his daughter would kiss a swineherd, casts her out. The prince then reveals himself in his full glory and spurns the princess as well. The princess is left abandoned and alone.

Buoyed by the wine, Bella read the part of the spoilt princess with great gusto, prompting chuckles from Edward. She closed the book and said with a smile,

"Well, I suppose the shallow princess got what she deserved in the end?"

"Seems rather harsh to me. Does it not strike you that fairy tales tend to be rather misogynistic?"

"You mean, because they make women suffer glass footwear, legumes in bed and narcolepsy?"

"Exactly."

They were both in high spirits now.

"Books!" Bella declared, swaying slightly. "If there is anything I would sell my kisses for, it would be books!"

Edward raised his glass to her, laughing, "Kisses for books, spoken like a true bibliophile!"

Bella blushed hotly. She must have sounded ridiculously presumptuous to Edward. She looked away, getting up to put the book back on the shelf.

"Not that anyone would pay anything to kiss me." she murmured, embarrassed.

"I'd kiss you." The reply came so swiftly Bella wasn't sure she heard him correctly.

"What?" She blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"You heard me. I would kiss you." Edward rose from his armchair.

"A book for a kiss,would that be a fair deal, Isabella?" He walked slowly towards her.

Bella's face was burning as she instinctively backed away from him until she felt her spine hit the shelves behind her. He was towering over her now.

"Pick a book." His tone was challenging. Was he _daring_ her?

She lifted a defiant chin. Well two can play that game. She glanced over at her desk. Scanning the pile of books she had been working on today, she picked the most valuable one.

"'Wuthering Heights'. The First American Edition."

Published in 1848 by Harpers & Brothers, it was worth an eye-watering £5,000.

She inclined her head towards it and waited for his protests.

If Edward Cullen thought £5,000 was a high price for a kiss, he didn't show it. He barely gave the book a glance, merely nodding to indicate he had heard her. Instead, his gaze seemed to search her face before coming to rest on her mouth.

_This is it. No backing out now._She closed her eyes and tipped her face towards him, expecting a perfunctory peck on the lips.

Edward had different ideas. He gently cupped her face with both his hands.

The first brush against Bella's upper lip sent a jolt down her body. The second, a slow graze across her lower lip, stopped her breathing entirely. By the time he finally pressed both his lips against hers, Bella's knees had buckled. He caught her with one hand on her back, crushing her body against his. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His mouth moved slowly against hers, insistent and coaxing.

_His hands are so warm._

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Edward rested his forehead against hers.

"If I were the prince, I would never have let you go."

She twisted away from his embrace, unable to look at him. As always, the walk home was conducted in complete silence.

That night, Bella could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel his lips burning hers.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>

**British "Biscuits" = American "Cookies"  
><strong>

**Bella's cuss cluster is my little tribute to Colin Firth. It was extracted from his fantastic swearing scene in the excellent movie "The King's Speech".**

**I've never had the pleasure of tasting the 1985 Château Margaux_. _My internet research tells me it's peaking now. If anyone has a spare bottle they can't finish, I'd be happy to assist you.**

**I've updated my profile with a very short Q & A.**


	7. The Fete & The Wager

Many thanks to **Sebastien Robichaud** who graciously recc'd my fic on his "**The Ice Queen and Mister McCarty**". He sent over some really lovely readers who have been very generous with their reviews.

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><p><strong>Cookie-Gate<strong>:

In my last chapter, I used the term "cookie" rather than the more British "biscuit" to avoid confusion. As a number of readers have correctly pointed out, since my story is set in England, "biscuit" would have been more appropriate. My British pre-reader (whom I cheerfully ignored at the time) agrees with you. He couldn't be more mortified if I had burnt the Union Jack (British flag) while mooning the Queen at the same time.

I humbly, humbly stand corrected on the matter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – The Fête &amp; The Wager<strong>

_**Friday**_

"Bella! Are you in your room?" Renee pushed into Bella's bedroom without warning. "I need to know where the..." Her eyes alighted on the book on Bella's desk. It was the "Pride and Prejudice" Bella's father had given her for her twenty-first birthday. When she agreed to the reading sessions with Edward, there was never any doubt in Bella's mind that this would be the first book she would take.

"Oh, I remember this. Your father gave it to you. It's such a pretty book. I'm glad the bank didn't get their grubby paws on it."

Bella could only hope that her mother hadn't notice the guilt colouring her face.

Renee picked up the book, running her fingers gently along its gilded spine. "I know I'm not clever like you or Charles..." Renee held up a hand to silence Bella's protests. "I don't read much, and I'm not interested in old books...but I loved him...and I miss him so much..." Bella put her arms around her mother as she began to weep.

"Mummy, he loved you too." Bella tightened her embrace. Her own eyes were stinging.

_How long would it take to stop hurting?_

"He would be here still, if not for the Cullens..."

"Mummy, shhhhhh, Daddy wouldn't want to see you like this." There was no point reasoning with Renee when she swung from grief to anger and started her tirade against the Cullens. The guilt she felt working for Edward was becoming heavier to bear. "Let's not be sad. Oh look, 'Cash in the Attic' is on. You love 'Cash in the Attic' don't you? Let's go watch the telly together."

* * *

><p>When Bella arrived at the library, Edward was already there waiting for her. Ignoring him studiously, she headed straight for her desk without a word. He approached her cautiously, as one would a skittish animal. He was right – she was ready to bolt.<p>

"Isabella..."

"It was a joke, We had too much to drink yesterday."

"I wasn't drunk. Not at all."

"Still, it didn't mean anything."

He looked at her earnestly.

"Am I so repulsive to you?" His low, quiet voice cut her unexpectedly.

Bella thought about the way she looked forward to 4 o'clock everyday. She remembered how gently he had cradled her face when he kissed her.

"No." Her truth was spoken in a whisper yet her lie seemed to shout. "But that doesn't mean I like you either."

She could not bear to look at him.

Edward left the library and did not return again that Friday.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Saturday<strong>_

The next day, Bella was in the village to pick up some groceries when she heard someone call her name.

"Isabella! Isabella Swan!"

"Garrett!" Bella's face broke into a wide smile. Though she didn't know him well, the fact that Garrett was one of the last people to work closely with her late father Charles Swan was enough to guarantee a warm greeting.

"Isabella! I haven't seen you in the longest time! Come to the pub, I'll buy you a drink!"

Garrett Connor was one of Fork's favourite sons, a rags-to-riches success story. Raised by his widowed mother, Garrett was an exceptionally bright student who managed to impress his sponsor so much he was given full financial support to attend both an exclusive public school and Oxford, where he read law. Now based in London, he worked for a leading law firm and was one of the lawyers involved in the Swan-Cullen river rights suit.

Tall and lanky with floppy blonde hair, Garrett was blessed with an effortless charm that devastated men and women alike. In fact, they were stopped so many times by villagers wanting to chat to Garrett it took a good half an hour to walk down the short street to the pub.

Bella was grateful for the easy company of Garrett. Her university friends were scattered throughout the country; at home, she had to tiptoe around her depressed mother and Edward, well, she considered that bridge burnt.

"So, Garrett, what are you doing back in Forks?"

"To see my mother of course! And for the Winter Fête, wouldn't miss that for the world! Are you going?"

The Winter Fête was a yearly village event organised by Esme Cullen, Edward's mother, on the grounds of the Cullen estate. It was a lively evening fair with food and drinks stalls as well as games and activities to raise money for charity. Because it was a "Cullen event", Bella was never allowed to attend. Not that she would now, she was trying to save every penny.

"Come on, I'll buy you a ticket! We'll go together! It'll be a laugh!"

Despite her worries about meeting Edward at the fête, Bella readily agreed because "laughs" were so rare in her life nowadays.

* * *

><p>The Winter Fête was in full swing by the time Bella and Garrett arrived. As social events in close-knit communities tend to be, it was welcomed with great exuberance by the villagers. Customers crowded the white tents decorated with lights and bunting while the delicious aroma of roasting meat filled the air. The village band churned out noisy tunes with cheerful enthusiasm, completely undeterred by their lack of skill. Garrett and Bella debated the merits of attacking the cider stand versus the star attraction stall featuring a whole pig which had been spit-roast over an open fire. They joined in traditional fête games such as snail racing. Contestants tried to outdo each other in giving their race snails amusing names like "Escargot", "Shelley" or "Gary" (after the Spongebob character). Garrett named his "Briskly Bobbing Bella" which earned him a glare from its namesake.<p>

As the night wore on, Bella drifted away from Garrett who was regaling yet another acquaintance with one of his colourful tales. Left alone, she was free to observe Esme Cullen in action.

Though the Swans always regarded themselves as the Cullen's social equals, confronted with the buzzing success of the event before her, Bella was forced to admit that the Cullens were leaders in the community in a way that the Swans could never be.

Elegant and petite, Esme Cullen was every inch the gracious, beloved matriarch. Bella's eye followed Esme as she wove between the crowd, complimenting a stallholder here, sharing a joke with a customer there, completely in her element. A tall figure sneaked up behind Esme and surprised her with a hug. Bella sucked in her breath. It was Edward. He stood at least a foot above his mother.

_He must have gotten his height from his father_, Bella thought, remembering with a grimace her last awkward encounter with the elder Cullen in Swan Manor.

Mother and son were clearly affectionate with each other. Edward looked like he was teasing Esme and at one point, threw his head back in hearty laughter. She had never seen him so comfortable. Watching their easy interaction, she vacillated between fascination and envy.

She was caught off-guard when he looked up and saw her. His surprise was quickly replaced by a hesitant smile. Bella's heart raced as Edward started to pull Esme in her direction.

_He's going to introduce me to his mother! _

Then, just as suddenly, his smile dropped and his gaze turned brittle. He bent down to whisper in Esme's ear as he gently manoeuvred her in the opposite direction, his arms about her protectively.

Bella wondered what had caused the about-face.

_Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he didn't even see me at all. _

"Missed me?" Garrett thrust a flower in front of her. Really, the man could flirt up a storm with a stone statue.

"Oh, were you gone?" Bella teased.

"Ouch, that cut me deep. And to think I was busy collecting village intelligence for your benefit."

"Really? Oh do tell, what world-shaping events in Forks have gone unreported by the news?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely...Mrs Smith suspects Mr Smith of having an affair, but a close source tells me that really he's developed a late life passion for ballroom dancing but doesn't want to bring his wife as a partner because he was worried about dipping her. She has a fondness for pork pies you see...and Lauren Mallory's _health_ issues? The village Figure-Watch Brigade noted that she went to London for a knee operation and came back with _bigger boobs_..."

Bella was laughing so hard she didn't notice they had walked straight into Edward and a woman she had never met before. The woman was an immaculate strawberry blonde almost as tall as Edward. She was clad in what could only be described as a city-dweller's idea of country wear. While the rest of the villagers attending the outdoors fête were dressed in practical waterproofs and muddy Wellington boots in readiness for the ever-present English drizzle, she was in pristine tweed, recently acquired and tailored too sharply to allow for much movement. Yet, even with her out-of-place attire, Bella had to concede that she and Edward made a handsome couple.

No one spoke. Garrett was staring at Edward, the two women at each other while Edward's glare alternated between Garrett and the flower Bella was holding in her hand.

It was Garrett who broke the awkward silence.

"Tanya! Long time no see!" Garrett turned to Bella in an aside, "We know each other from Oxford."

"Garrett! I had forgotten you're from Forks as well. Oh that's right! Wasn't your father a _gardener_ for the Cullens?" Tanya looped a possessive arm into Edward's.

Bella bristled with indignation at Tanya's sneer. She waited for Edward's reaction to his companion's rudeness, but none was forthcoming. He was too busy locked in a staring match with Garrett. Bella mirrored Tanya's stance and circled her arm around Garrett's in a show of solidarity.

True to form, Garrett recovered admirably.

"Ah Tanya, I see time has not diminished your _charm_. Yes, my _late_ father worked for the Cullens before he died when I was ten." Changing the subject rapidly, he introduced Bella.

"This is Isabella Swan. She grew up in Forks as well. Isabella, this is Tanya Denali."

"Oh, _Swan_! Didn't you _used to_ live in Swan Manor?"

There was only one person that information could have come from. Bella glowered at Edward, hurt and surprised by his betrayal. Edward finally reacted.

"Tanya! That's enough!"

It was Bella who had had enough.

"Come on Garrett, let's go see if you're as good at darts as you claim."

She tightened her hold on Garrett and towed him away without looking back.

Once they were a safe distance away, she tried to comfort him. "I'm sorry Garrett, she was abominably rude to you. I don't know why Edward puts up with it."

"Oh Isabella, I know very well why he puts up with it. How well do you know Edward?"

"Not well at all." It was the truth. Bella's arm-length approach towards Edward had made sure of that.

"I'll tell you the story some other time. Come on, let's go watch me beat everyone else at darts."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Monday<strong>_

By Monday, Bella was close to bursting with her questions. Who was Tanya? How long had she been with Edward? What caused the bad blood between Garrett and Edward? She arrived at the library early to get some answers.

1 p.m. No Edward.

3 p.m. Still no Edward.

4 p.m. Where the heck was Edward?

At quarter past four, just as she was ready to pack up and leave, she heard the library door creak open followed by the heavy staccato of footsteps.

Edward stalked into the room, but it was not the Edward she was familiar with. The Edward she knew was slightly rumpled with wind-blown hair. The same Edward who favoured cashmere jumpers and Barbour jackets, the practical uniform of a country gent.

The man before her was clean-shaven with slicked back hair and an exquisitely-fitted dark suit, bespoke Savile Row by the looks of it.

_He must have had business in London. _

And there was his demeanour. Edward, apart from their disastrous first meeting in the Swan library, was quietly self-possessed. This man was currently prowling the floor in front of her desk, his obvious agitation heightening the colour on his cheeks.

As she watched him pace back and forth, it struck Bella, not for the first time in the last few days, how little she really knew Edward.

_Who is this man?_

Tension radiated from him as his long strides struck the parquet floor with crisp clicks. His rider's back was held straight, and he shot furious looks at her from time to time.

Bella could not help fixating on his long fingers as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and removed it with an impatient yank. Tie and top button loosened, the cuff-links were the next to go with a brisk twist of his fingers. Still pacing, he began rolling up his sleeves, tugging sharply each time the fabric folded over his arm. She watched from behind her desk, fascinated. Under his sleeves, his forearms were firm and lightly-veined.

Edward Cullen had worked himself into a fine fury over something and the result was...she hated to admit, rather _magnificent_.

He stopped pacing abruptly and faced her square on.

"What is he to you?"

"What?" Everything she had been rehearsing to say to him fled her head.

"I'm talking about Garrett. What is he to you? Are you dating him?"

"That's none of your business!" Bella, who had been expecting to needle him for replacing her with Tanya so quickly, was surprised to find herself on the defensive. She rose to her feet, ready to leave.

He leaned over her desk and gripped her arms. "Isabella, please! Just answer me! Are. You. Dating. Him?"

"No." The desperation in his voice had caught her by surprise.

He closed his eyes and let out a breath, relaxing his grip on her infinitesimally. "Do you plan to?"

"That is none of your business."

"Garrett is...not to be trusted. _Please_, Isabella, stay away from him." He released her and resumed his pacing, running his hands over his face and hair.

"Why? Because he's the _gardener_'s son?"

"Of course not!"

"Then tell me why I shouldn't trust Garrett."

"It's...it's not my story to tell."

He dropped into a chair in front of her desk and began studying her face with unnerving intensity. He was making his mind up about something.

Finally, Edward stood up and planted both palms firmly on her desk, looking straight into her eyes.

"You're lying."

"I _beg_ your pardon?"

"I've been thinking about this over the weekend, and I've come to the conclusion that you're lying. You _like_ me."

"That's preposterous! And _breathtaking_ in its arrogance, I might add."

"You are not the type of girl to sell your kisses for anything, not even for a book worth several thousand pounds."

"_You_ kissed me! I thought it was just going to be a quick peck, not..." Bella mimed an amorous Pepe Le Pew kiss-clinch. "Besides, 'Wuthering Heights' is one of my favourite books," she added lamely. Even as she tried to make light of the situation, waves of heat were rolling up her neck at the memory of the kiss.

"You can try to dismiss it now but I remember how your body responded to mine. Are you really not going to give this a chance because of a two hundred-year-old feud no one can remember?"

_Yes. And besides, my mother would castrate you. Right after she's sold me into slavery._

"No."

"Then give me a good reason."

"I'm not attracted to you. We...we have no chemistry together." _Liar liar pants on fire_.

"That is complete and utter bollocks!"

"Edward, just what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to _remind_ you how much chemistry we have together." Edward had moved around the desk and was now closing in on her.

Bella staggered backwards. "We...we are not lovers. We are barely friends. You...you can't kiss me like that again."

"Fine. Let's settle this how it started two hundred years ago. Let's have a wager. If you win, I'll give you a hundred books from your father's collection, and I will never bother you again."

_A hundred books?_ Bella's interest was piqued. "What's the wager?"

Edward's gaze dropped to her mouth. Bella stumbled back into her chair. "I told you. No kisses."

"Not on the mouth perhaps. What about here?" He brushed a finger gently along her cheek. "Or here?" His finger traced her jaw as her eyelids fluttered shut. "Maybe here." The same finger slid down her throat. He murmured softly, "Give me until the end of the week. I'll prove to you exactly how much chemistry we have."

"How do you prove something like that?"

"Before the week is up, I'll make you say my name."

Bella frowned, perplexed. "Edward?"

"No, not Edward." He leaned into her ear. "_Edward_." His warm sigh tickled her skin.

Bella flushed. "You're being ridiculous. I am NOT attracted to you."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Right now, I'm giving you a book a week for our reading sessions. A hundred books, that's almost two years' worth. And like I said, if you win, I'll never bother you about this again."

"What do you want if you win?"

Edward leaned against the edge of the desk and smiled. "A _proper_ date, maybe a meal together. And I want to walk you home everyday. Walk _beside_ you, Isabella, not behind you. And..." Edward hesitated. "And I want to call you Bella."

This surprised Bella. Only her parents and close friends called her that. But she could think of no real objection.

"But if you can't even kiss me on the mouth, then how...?"

"We'll limit the contact to the skin you show."

Bella looked down at her bulky, long-sleeved jumper and raised a brow. Did the man really think he could make her moan his name by kissing her face and neck? Cocky bastard.

"Well, fine. But you can't...you can't...you know...remove any of my clothes."

"Of course not! What sort of a man do you think I am?"

"The sort who would make a wager like this."

"Touché."

Bella looked down at her hands. "What about Tanya? I take it you're not together?"

"Tanya. Tanya likes my money. Tanya thinks living in the country means sitting in the drawing room in pearls and a cashmere twin-set sipping tea.

"I met Tanya at Oxford. We went out for all of two weeks. My mother invited her to the fête, not me. I don't want her, Isabella." His intense gaze was back on her face.

She had to look away. "So, when do we start?"

"Now."

* * *

><p><strong>British to American Translations:<strong>

Telly - TV

Public School – Fee-paying private school (confusing, I know)

Jumper – Sweater

Bollocks – Bullshit

- "Cash in the Attic" – A BBC programme where an antique expert roots through the home of a participant and finds (sometimes surprisingly) valuable items to sell at auction. Renee would have been interested given her former home and her current financial situation.

- To "read" a university subject is to study a subject.

- Law is available as an undergraduate subject in the UK.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

I apologise for the way snails (kidnapped, liberated or racing) have come to dominate my fic.

My pre-reader said, "You know that scene where Edward takes off his suit jacket? All it needs is some stripper music."

I don't need to tell you that the next chapter(s) will be citrusy. By citrus, I mean small, sweet and slightly obscure fruit, nothing too tart or overwhelming. We are talking kumquat-level citrus. Do you like kumquats?


	8. Monday, Tuesday

Many thanks to **Nic** and **The Lemonade Stand** blog for their kind mention.

Many thanks to **rubiconqueen** for her pimpage on her fic "**A Crimson Change**"**.**

* * *

><p>Don't get too excited, like I said, it's not a lemon, just a kumquat.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 – Monday, Tuesday<strong>

_**Monday**_

Bella Swan had never been in love. There was a time when she thought she was. At 17, she met an exotic transfer student to her school. He was a slender, extremely intelligent youth who loved books, spoke exquisite French and played the piano with a passionate mastery that belied his tender age. Bella was smitten. When it emerged that they would be going to universities in different countries, the young lovers shed many tears, lost their virginity to each other in a painful (for Bella) and awkward (for both) encounter and promised faithfully to call and write until they could be reunited.

In the whirl of university life, the phone calls lasted two weeks, the letters and emails two months. Near the end, Bella was horrified to discover that she could not even remember what her young lover looked like. The experience did not leave her traumatised, but did make her rather dismissive of her own feelings, and sceptical of romance in general.

In the years that followed, she received her fair share of romantic interest from the opposite sex, though she never courted the attention. She made little effort to enhance her looks with careful styling or flattering make-up. She didn't reject her femininity; it simply wasn't an important part of her identity. Bella found most of the boys her age immature, insipid and impatient. She decided to put romance on the back-burner, and it didn't bother her. She had her beloved father, her books and the beautiful estate to go home to. She was content.

The persistent attentions of a certain Edward Cullen left her utterly baffled.

"Edward, why me?"

They were seated next to each other on the sofa after hashing out the detailed terms of their wager. They agreed to keep her regular work and the wager separate, which meant no physical contact during her normal work hours. They would start at 4 p.m. everyday, for half an hour each day until the end of the week. No kissing on her lips. Contact was to be limited to her exposed skin only. They decided that accidental contact was inevitable, but any deliberate attempt by him to touch sensitive areas would result in forfeit.

Now that it was time to do the deed, they sat awkwardly on the sofa, close but not touching. "It's OK, we'll start slow," Edward said to no one in particular.

"Edward, you could have had anyone. Why me?"

He seemed surprised by the question. His eyes softened as he shifted closer to her.

"The first time I saw you," he began quietly, picking up her hand, "I thought you were the most adorable thing I had ever seen."

He held her hand to his cheek, closing his eyes. The cuff of her sleeve slipped down, revealing the scar on her inner forearm.

"You were wearing a little pink dress, and tiny ribbons in your hair." He started peppering the palm of her hand with soft kisses.

"You had mud all over your dress." He nuzzled her wrist, making her breath catch. He was now planting tender kisses along her scar between his words.

"You were." _Kiss._

"The sweetest." _Kiss_.

"Kindest." _Kiss._

"Littlest." _Kiss_.

"Tomboy." _Kiss._

This gentle onslaught was not at all what Bella was expecting. And since when was the inner arm an erogenous zone? She was beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into.

"I would see you by the river every summer." Edward cradled her face carefully, turning her to look into his eyes. "One summer...you must have been 17...I hadn't seen you for a year...I was rowing on the river, and there you were, asleep under the tree.

"You were curled up on your side, on a blanket. May I?" He gestured towards her hair. Reaching behind her, he released the single pin holding her careless bun together. He watched, mesmerised, as her locks fell about her shoulders. "Your hair was longer than I had ever seen on you." His thumb stroked her cheek. "You looked so grown-up, I realised you weren't that little girl any more." His large warm hands slipped down to curve around her neck.

"You had this little smile, like you were having the sweetest dream." He leaned in to kiss her mouth but stopped himself in time. The soft kiss landed and lingered on the very edge of her mouth instead. "You were," he whispered between light pecks along her jaw, "the loveliest creature I had ever seen."

From there, he gently assaulted every inch of her face. He tickled the downy hair along her hairline with his nose; he placed sweet kisses on her eyelids, her nose, her chin; he kissed the corners of her mouth with a desperation that made it clear he wished he were kissing her lips instead.

He laced his fingers with hers and held their hands by her side as he moved down to her neck.

_His tongue. Oh god. His tongue._

His hot breath against her skin made her toes curl as he continued to murmur sweet words between licks and kisses. Bella was trying her best to contain her writhes and gasps. Were sweet nothings against the rules? Damn Edward Cullen. Damn her long neck.

She tried to distract him.

"But...when I saw you...in my father's library..." She had to stop because he was angling her face so he could lavish attention on the spot just behind her earlobe. "You were so..."

"Nervous...so nervous." His mouth travelled down the column of her neck and lingered on the curve where it met her shoulder. "You were...so beautiful...and so sad."

He nudged the neckline of her jumper back with his nose, finding more skin to taste. "I wanted to comfort you...But you hated me...Please don't hate me."

Bella couldn't remember why she hated Edward. It was very hard to think about hating Edward when he was licking the dip above her collar bone.

Bella soon gave up fighting her body's responses. By the end of the session, she was a hot, heaving mess.

When she got home that evening, she went straight to a mirror to examine herself. Her hair was a nest, her clothes dishevelled, and there was a fevered glint in her eyes. She touched her cheek – it was burning.

_So this is what it's like,_ she thought to herself, _to be adored by a man_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tuesday<strong>_

The next afternoon, Bella and Edward sat in the library, working at their respective desks. Rather, Edward was working; Bella was...watching.

Since their first kiss, she had been seeing Edward through new eyes. She began to notice the little things, like the soft pout of his lips when he was concentrating, or how his long lashes cast shadows on his face. Right now, she was intently studying the way the light carved out his jawline as he turned to look out of the window. Nothing wrong with admiring an attractive man, she decided. Besides, she wouldn't be here for much longer. At the rate they were going, Bella didn't think she would be able to work for Edward for long after wager was settled.

Edward yawned in front of his laptop, stretching his arms above his head before twisting his torso left and right to flex his upper body. Bella's eyes followed the movement of his muscles as they strained under his shirt. Lately, Edward had taken to removing his jumper when he entered the library, leaving only his collared shirt on. The library was usually kept quite warm, not that Bella minded: she was always cold.

A diabolical plan formed in her mind, and before she knew it, she was approaching his desk, sipping from her glass of water.

"Edward, I need to check something with you..." She tipped her water onto his shirt.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Bella hoped she sounded sincere.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just run up to my room and change."

"Or you could just change into your jumper. That would save you a trip. Don't you have to meet someone in 5 minutes?"

"Oh, that's not a bad idea actually. You don't mind if I just change quickly here?"

Bella smiled what she hoped was a neutral smile.

He turned his back to her and lifted his shirt over his head. For the few brief, glorious moments his back was uncovered, she was surprised by the indecently beautiful expanse of muscle before her and the way it flexed and rippled when he reached for his jumper. She had the strangest urge to lick his back. She frowned at herself, flummoxed. Were backs supposed to be tasty? She remembered that he rowed in the summer. Rowing, she decided, was a criminally underrated sport.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" Regrettably, Edward was now fully-clothed. His hair had been mussed by the changing. Bella fought the urge to reach out and tidy it.

"Oh, it's nothing."

"All right then, I'll be off. I'll see you...at 4?" The faintest blush stained his cheeks.

Bella nodded. She definitely wouldn't be able to work for Edward for much longer.

* * *

><p>At 4, Bella discovered that Edward had called in reinforcements from Scotland.<p>

He settled down next to her on the sofa with a glass of Scotch whisky and an arch smile on his face. Bella raised a brow.

"You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"

"No." He chuckled. "I like my women sober enough to call my name."

Bella resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Come on, I'll teach you how to taste this." Bella was reluctant. All she could remember from her brief flings with whisky was the fiery bite.

"Take a sniff, but just a little one, it's all alcohol vapour at this point." Bella leaned in and sniffed gingerly. Sure enough, she was hit with the familiar burn in her nostrils.

"This," Edward said rolling the glass lightly in his hand, "is a 30-year-old single malt. That's older than either you or me." The lush, amber liquid coated the walls of the glass and clung languidly before sliding back to the bottom.

"Here, smell it again. Take a deeper sniff this time. What do you smell?"

"It's...it's like burnt tangerines. Bonfire. And...a forest...after the rain."

"Excellent. Now take a little sip. Move it around your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing."

Bella took a sip, bracing herself for the burn. The burn was there, but with it came wave upon wave of flavour before the whisky slipped down her throat in a warm blaze.

"More citrus. Vanilla. Caramel...on toasted nuts. More smoke...the sea somehow. Does that make sense?"

"The smokiness is from the peat, and this distillery uses peat that contains seaweed. I knew it! You have a fantastic palate." Edward looked so pleased that Bella could not help smiling with him.

"So, is it just a whisky lesson today then?" Bella didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"Of course not Isabella. I just wanted you to taste what I taste when I do this."

He dipped a finger in the whisky, dabbed a little on her fingertip and licked it off. The chill from the whisky as the alcohol evaporated was swiftly replaced by the warmth of his tongue. Bella stared at Edward, stunned. He merely smirked a little and repeated the slow process along her arm.

_Dip. _

_Dab._

_Lick. _

On the inside of her wrist. On her inner forearm. The inside of her elbow.

_Dip._

_Dab._

_Lick. _

Bella cursed herself for letting her guard down and pushing up the sleeves of her top. She suppressed a whimper as the slight grittiness of his tongue brushed the inside of her elbow, over, and over.

It was like Chinese water torture, except she was slowly being driven insane by a thousand little licks and kisses.

She was terrified of him moving on to her neck.

She wished he would hurry up and move on to her neck.

_Dip._

_Dab._

_Lick._

She got her wish. He started from the spot under the ear, where her jaw ended.

_Dip._

_Dab._

_Lick. _

The heady aroma of the whisky was much stronger now. She remembered the sensation of the liquor on her tongue and unconsciously licked her lips.

He must have noticed it, as he offered her more by holding a dipped finger above her. She waited impatiently for the drop of whisky to drip into her mouth, but it was taking too long.

She darted her tongue out to lick it. There was more. She licked his finger again.

Bella was suddenly aware that Edward had gone very, very still. He was gazing at her mouth with hooded eyes. He swallowed.

_What's the big deal? _She wondered._ It's just a finger. _

Oh.

_Oh._

Bella was hit with an epiphany. She had been so busy trying to defend herself against Edward's advances, she forgot she could go on the offensive too. Between the two of them, she was clearly the less experienced. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her, what to say. She didn't think she could last the rest of the week at this rate.

All she had to do was distract him from his plans, or better yet, provoke him into touching the prohibited areas so he would have to forfeit their wager.

She decided to test her theory.

"More." She was surprised by the confident tone of her voice. Edward obligingly dipped his finger into the glass and held it to her.

She considered his finger briefly, trying to remember every sex scene she had ever read or watched. Taking a deep breath, she ran the tip of her tongue slowly from its base to the fingertip.

He made a sound from the back of his throat.

Encouraged, she flickered her tongue at the tip before taking the finger very slowly, millimetre by millimetre, into her mouth.

By the end of the session, Edward was a hot, heaving mess.

Bella was triumphant.

A new plan for the next day was slowly forming in her head. It would have to start with her wardrobe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**:

The gratuitous naked back scene was inspired by the gratuitous naked back 'headboard' shot from the new Breaking Dawn trailer.

So...the next chapter should be fun. It should be out very soon, provided I don't get drunk on whisky.


	9. Wednesday

**A/N:**

**Dear readers,**

**I meant to post this chapter on Saturday but news of a most disturbing nature reached me – there were rumblings on the InterWebs that The Back in the headboard scene in the BD trailer belongs not to Robert Pattinson but a body double. This devastated me so much I went on a rampage, smashing my laptop and all the furniture in the room. As I was on my knees, beating my chest, screaming "Why? WHY?" at the skies, it occurred to me to check the InterWebs again for any dissenting views. Sure enough, GossipCop debunked the vile rumour, while the lovely ladies at the Robsessed blog conducted a very scientific, very thorough analysis proving that The Back does indeed belong to Rob.**

**I breathed a sigh of relief. My faith restored, I could write again, just not as quickly, because I had smashed my laptop. And that is why this chapter is late. And rather short.**

**p.s. I'm joking of course. But the chapter is indeed rather short.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 – Wednesday<strong>

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that when a single woman is required to seduce a man, she will have nothing to wear.

"I have _nothing_ to wear."

This was Bella's lament as she contemplated her wardrobe on Wednesday morning, the day after she had decided to go on the offensive in her wager with Edward Cullen.

She had nothing, _nothing_ apart from the thick, oversized woollen jumpers and the frumpy long skirts she usually wore.

It wasn't simply a matter of wearing as little as possible. She had to cover as much of her body as she could to protect herself against _him_. The terms of their wager specified that he had free access to any exposed skin. As she experienced first-hand over the last two days, Edward could do _a lot_ with very little. The memory of him licking whisky off the curve of her elbow still made her insides clench. She didn't think she could withstand another onslaught like it.

It was bad enough that she had absolutely no experience with seduction, her lack of sartorial options and the complications of their wager made things even more difficult.

After much rummaging, she gathered a half-decent ensemble: a black, fitted V-neck jumper made of a fine cashmere-silk weave which she had always found too flimsy for winter; a pretty mid-thigh skirt made from real tartan; black leather knee-high riding-style boots; black opaque tights.

Bella remembered that he had wanted her hair down on Monday so she made sure to wash and style her hair that morning. After struggling with her mother's curling tong for an hour, it fell in loose shiny curls down her back.

She even put on some red lipstick, but it made her feel self-conscious, so she rubbed it off.

As she stood in front of the mirror, she was surprised by how flattering the ensemble was. The tights and the boots accentuated her long legs, the thin jumper clung to her curves, with the V-neck showing just a hint of décolletage. The stark black of the outfit was lifted by the almost flirty reds of the tartan skirt. For once, she looked like a twenty-three year-old rather than a middle-aged spinster. Best of all, even as it showed off her figure, very little skin was actually exposed.

The ensemble, though almost racy by Bella's usual standards, lacked...something. She needed that bit extra, to give her a little _va-vroom_. Something that would make Edward Cullen crack.

She took off her bra.

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the library in her coat, Edward was already hard at work, typing furiously into his laptop. He looked up at her briefly with a warm smile, and went straight back to work.<p>

_Men_, Bella marvelled, _compartmentalise so well_. While she had been getting more and more distracted by his presence, he was steaming ahead as usual.

It was a sunny winter's day and light was streaming in through the large Georgian windows. She steeled her nerves, quietly took off her coat, and walked towards one. With her body facing him and the sunlight bathing her skin, she pretended to admire the view, and waited.

Even though her eyes were focused on the trees outside, she could pinpoint the exact moment when he looked up. The rapid, noisy clatter of his typing ceased altogether.

Satisfied that she had caught his attention, Bella headed for a bookshelf on the opposite end of the room, making sure to graze her skirt by the edge of his desk along the way.

Her heart was pounding as she stopped in front of the shelf. Could she do this? She hesitated for a moment before bending down languorously, ostensibly to retrieve a volume. By the time she straightened up, he was standing directly behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiate from his body.

She fought the urge to lean into his warmth and remained resolutely still. His breath was harsh in her ears and tickled the back of her neck. She could feel the fabric at the back of her skirt brush against him.

Bella watched as he raised his arms slowly on either side of her until his hands clutched a shelf the height of her chin. She was completely enveloped in his heat, the sound of his breathing, his smell.

The tension in his body made the veins on his forearms bulge. She wondered what it would feel like to trace her fingers along them.

The long, elegant fingers that had tormented her over the last two evenings gripped the shelf tightly for what seemed like an eternity. His right hand was digging into the wood so hard, she thought he might claw a chunk out.

Without warning, his hands released their grip and disappeared from her view.

A moment later, she heard the slam of his laptop and Edward's quickening footsteps leaving the room.

Bella smiled.

_Power,_ she thought, _even a little bit of it, is intoxicating_.

* * *

><p>She stood waiting for him near the fireplace. She didn't want to sit; she was the predator this time, not the prey.<p>

He strode in at 4 sharp and stopped behind the sofa.

"I was so distracted this afternoon," he spoke in a low, throaty voice, running his hand through his hair, "I think I might have accidentally bought a start-up in Germany."

"Why don't you sit down and we can begin." _Was that her voice?_

Bella had never seen Edward so unsure of himself. He finally settled on the far end of the sofa.

She sat down facing him, her knees brushing against his legs. Before she could lose her nerve, she began running her fingers up his arm, across his shoulders, down to his chest.

_So firm, everywhere. _

"I thought we agreed..."

"I think you'll find, Mr Cullen, that our agreement restricts where you may touch me, but says nothing about where _I_ may touch you."

"That is a terrible oversight on my part." He murmured softly looking down at her hand on his chest. "Terrible."

Then, to her surprise, he closed his eyes and lay back on the sofa. _He was letting her. _

Bella was stunned by the sight before her. With his head thrown back, the line of his profile, from his forehead to his mouth, from his chin down to his Adam's Apple, was beautiful. Obscenely so.

She ran her hand up his throat. She scratched the stubble on his jaw. She felt the curve of his cheekbone.

Something about the way he leaned into her hand when she stroked his cheek broke her heart a little.

That hair. She wanted to touch his hair.

She couldn't reach high enough, so she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap.

Bella felt the resulting groan vibrate throughout his body.

_Ha!_ She thought,_ this is easy. And I didn't even have to push my chest out at him. _

"Isabella?" His eyes were still closed.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to up the stakes. Two hundred books."

"What terms?"

He kept his eyes closed, but he was flushing a deep pink.

_So adorable. _

He mumbled something she couldn't hear.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"No bra."

She replied by kissing his warm cheek.

_He's going to crack._ She thought, noticing the way his fingers were gripping the fabric of the sofa. _I just need to push him over the edge._

Bella gently pulled his shirt out of his trousers .

"Isabella."

She undid a button. Then the next. And the next.

"Isabella!"

She suddenly found herself on her back, stretched out on the sofa, her wrists gently but firmly pinned down above her head.

"I know what you are doing, Isabella." Edward hovered above her, breathing hard. "You are a dangerous, _dangerous_ creature." One of his knees was between her legs.

Realising the precariousness of his position, he released her hands and climbed off the sofa, kneeling on the floor next to her. He raked his eyes down her body laid out before him on the sofa.

"It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be _a game_." He buried his face in her neck and began the sweet torture she knew so well.

"Say my name," he pleaded, "_just say it_."

His mouth assaulted her neck with a new desperation, lower and lower until it hit the lowest end of her neckline.

Just as she was lamenting the loss of his mouth on her skin, she felt his breath just a few inches from her neckline.

Right _there_.

He was panting, and his hot, moist breath penetrated the thin weave of the fabric and taunted her in the most cruel way.

She gasped and looked down to see his mouth poised just above her. He was straining for self-control.

What she did next shocked even her. She arched her back infinitesimally, not enough to make contact, but enough to signal clearly what she wanted from him.

Their eyes met.

If he gave in now, he would lose the wager, and possibly Isabella forever.

The gentle chime from the alarm they had set to run daily saved him.

Edward threw himself backwards away from her and covered his face.

One of them would crack soon. And it sure as hell wouldn't be him.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are better than molesting a willing Manorward on the sofa. Okay no, that's a lie.<strong>


	10. Thursday

**Chapter 10 – Thursday**

Bella Swan had a busy Thursday morning. She sent off a book to an antique books dealer in London. It was something she had received from Edward for the previous week's reading. The book was a pompous, dull and tedious tome written by a pompous, dull and tedious 19th century writer, of special interest to some niche collectors, but absolutely loathed by Bella. It was a book she would have gladly sold even if she had inherited the collection from her father. Even Edward had arched a brow when he saw the title she picked. The funds from the sale of the book would be put towards finally getting a new boiler for the cottage.

By sheer coincidence, her mother had been approached by roofers from a nearby village looking for a cottage roof just like theirs to test out some new roofing techniques. Because they were the guinea pigs, the roofers said, they would charge just the minimal material costs. For Bella, the offer could not have come at a better time. They were running out of jars and pans to catch the leaks and the cottage was getting unlivable. She spent the morning looking after the roofers and making sure they were supplied with mugs of steaming hot tea.

Lastly, Bella finalised what she would wear for the day. After the near breakdown in Edward's self-control yesterday, she decided she would shift her focus from merely distracting him to actively tempting him to touch her. According to their agreement, if Edward touched her anywhere other than her exposed skin, he would forfeit and lose the wager. She decided this was a better strategy than trying to last the rest of the week without saying his name.

She picked a thin long-sleeved turtle-neck top that was more suitable for late spring than mid-winter. The high neckline would protect _her_ and frustrate _him_, Bella thought with a smile. She wore it without a bra, as he had blushingly requested on Wednesday. In her freezing bedroom, the outline of her curves were sharply delineated against the thin fabric. She completed the outfit with a short tweed skirt, and the black tights and knee-high riding boots from the previous day. She examined her reflection in the mirror.

Edward Cullen was going _down_.

* * *

><p>Pure. Evil.<p>

He was Pure Evil.

If Pure Evil could look like an angel while playing the piano.

When Bella arrived at the library, she was surprised to hear the tinkling of piano keys. Even so, she was unprepared for the sight that awaited her in the main library.

Edward Cullen was seated at the piano, his distinctive profile silhouetted against the window. The cool winter light washed his forearms and hands an eerie grey as his fingers danced across the keys with ease. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted as he surrendered to the sweet music he was coaxing from the instrument. She could not look away, could not breathe, until the last note was sounded.

He opened his eyes slowly as if awakening from a pleasant dream before turning to her and giving her a beatific smile.

Bella, who had been leaning against the door frame in a daze, gripped it harder to hold herself up.

His gaze held her face before sliding down to the high collar of her thin turtle-neck. He looked...disappointed? It travelled down her body, past her skirt, to her knee-high boots, and back up again to where she knew his eyes would linger.

After all, he did increase the stakes to 200 books for her to not wear a bra.

She knew that he was here to find out what she was wearing so that he wouldn't be caught offguard again, like yesterday.

Flustered by his frank appraisal of her body, she hurried to her desk and made a great show of setting up her work.

He passed her on his way out, bent down and murmured lowly in her ear,

"I'll turn the heating up. You look..._cold_."

_Bastard_.

* * *

><p>It was all very well being strategic and using any advantage she had to win the wager, but Bella was freezing. The thin turtle-neck and short skirt that were so handy for beguiling a man, did very little in the way of insulating her against the winter chill. She decided to keep warm by moving the books that needed be transferred between the main library and the shelf room. She was carefully balancing a pile of 20 books in her arms when a cheerful voice rang out from the library entrance,<p>

"Edward! You can't hide from me forever!"

Startled, Bella lost her precarious hold on the pile of books, scattering them all over the floor. The sharp corners of the books scraped her hosiery-clad legs as they fell, making her wince with pain.

_Damn short skirts! A pox on all cheap tights! _

There was no point trying to hide. Whoever was at the door must have heard the commotion she caused when she dropped the books and would be coming in to investigate. She straightened her clothes, clutched a large volume to cover her chest and attempted to look as dignified as she could.

"Something is up! I can smell it! This house is big, but I will find you...well, hello there. And who might you be?" The amiable intruder had blond hair, an open, weathered face well-acquainted with the outdoors, and an easy, confident manner.

"I'm Isabella. I'm helping Mr Cullen catalogue his library." Bella spoke with as much hauteur as she could summon while standing in what looked like the aftermath of a book explosion.

"I see." The man elected to politely ignore the mess around Bella. He squinted at her and then widened his eyes in recognition. "But aren't you...?" He pointed in the general direction of Swan Manor.

"Yes."

"Then how..."

"Mr Cullen was kind enough to offer me a job. Please don't tell anyone. If my mother finds out, I'll become an orphan. I'm not sure her heart can take it."

"Well, in that case, you have my word. Pleased to meet you, Isabella. I'm Jasper Whitlock. I'm Edward's estate manager. I'm also married to his cousin Alice." The skin on his hand as he clasped hers in a firm handshake was warm and rough.

"Pleased to meet you, Jasper. He was here earlier today but he left around 1."

"I see, thanks for telling me." Jasper looked down at her boots thoughtfully.

"By the way Isabella, have you noticed Edward behaving strangely recently? I think he bought a start-up in Germany yesterday."

"He mentioned it but I'm afraid I'm the wrong person to ask. I haven't worked here long and he doesn't discuss his business dealings with me."

Jasper eyed her speculatively before bending down to scoop up the books. Clearly athletic, he had the books piled on her desk in no time. Breaking into a wide smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes, he bade her farewell,

"Well, I'll be off then. Got an estate to run. I hope I'll see you around sometime."

"I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Thank you for your help."

As he turned to leave, Jasper murmured something under his breath which sounded like "Boy never does anything the easy way."

Bella's shoulders sagged with relief. Her day was eventful indeed.

* * *

><p>Edward strolled in at 5 minutes to 4.<p>

"Jasper came in here looking for you today."

"Oh did he? You don't have to worry about Jasper telling anyone. He's a good friend. I trust him completely. But I'll tell him not to come in here anyway."

"He said that you've been...distracted lately?"

Edward didn't reply, merely making a non-committal sound as he sat down next to her. He ran a finger along the edge of her turtle-neck, his nail glancing her neck very lightly.

"You like it when I touch your neck, don't you? Why else would you cover it?" His voice was throaty.

"Or maybe you know how much_ I_ like touching your neck." Edward leaned in to brush his nose along the same path his finger had been.

A light shudder ran though Bella. She would have to act fast before he gained the upper hand. She pushed him back gently. "I want to try something."

She put her left hand on her knee. Picking up his right hand, she placed it over her left. His large hand covered hers completely. She began circling her knee with her left hand. "Move your hand with mine." She guided their hands a few inches up her leg and slowly back down again. "It's still within our rules. Your hand is touching mine, nothing else, see?"

Bella knew he was painfully aware of this. From his perspective, with his hand completely engulfing her small one, it would seem as if he was running his hand up and down her leg. But of course he could feel nothing, just the back of her hand.

Edward was staring at his hand, entranced. She dragged their hands further up her leg to her hip, across her stomach, and down to her other knee.

She heard Edward inhale sharply as she lay back and stretched her body out on the sofa. Their hands were at her belly button now. She pulled their hands languidly up her body, forcing him forward so that his body loomed over hers.

The air was still as Bella inched their fingers over her breast. Edward swallowed thickly. She felt his grip tighten over hers. This was exquisite torture, to be so close, to see it right before you and yet feel nothing.

"Come here." With their hands still over her breast, she pulled his face down to hers. He started to kiss the corners of her mouth with a sweet urgency.

"Isabella...so cruel..." He was burrowing into the thin strip of skin on her neck left uncovered by the collar. She found herself arching back to give him more to taste.

_Focus, Bella. Focus._

She could win this. She was so close.

She carefully lifted their hands from her breast and slipped hers away from underneath his. Edward stopped kissing her and stared at his hand, now hovering just inches above her breast, realisation sinking in.

"No, Isabella, I..." His gaze lingered on her body. She knew the flimsy fabric hid nothing.

"No!" Edward backed away from the sofa, his voice tinged with desperation. His hand caught the edge of a chessboard on the coffee table, sending the chess pieces flying across the floor.

The spell was broken. Bella sat up on the sofa, humiliated. She had been so determined to win, she had resorted to underhanded methods she wasn't proud of. She stared glumly at the fire while Edward went on his hands and knees, gathering the chess pieces around her feet.

"Oh. _Fuck_." Bella looked up, surprised at the soft cuss. Edward did not swear. He swiftly deposited the pieces on the board and was seated next to her in an instant.

"Isabella, I call a truce. We both get what we want. You get your 200 books, I get my date. What do you say?"

"No." All she had to do was last through Friday's session without saying his name. She wouldn't give up now.

"Last chance. No? Fine. Then let me tell you a story..." His breath was warm on her ears.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. A prince from a neighbouring kingdom saw the beautiful princess and tried everything he could to win her heart. He picked her the loveliest flowers from his castle." Bella shifted uncomfortably. _Where is he going with this? _

"He found her foods from exotic lands." Bella remembered the chocolates and the delicate macarons. _Could it be?_

"He played her sweet music. He even gave her his most precious belongings - his books. But his efforts were to no avail. The princess would not look at him. She would not even speak his name...

"One day, the prince decided to do something different. He went to the princess, got down on his knees and worshipped her..."

_What? _

It was then she felt it. The slightest pressure on her skin, halfway along her upper leg, on her inner thigh.

_But how...?_

She looked down. There it was, in the middle of her inner thigh, a large hole in her tights, spanning 4 or 5 inches in length, a little more than an inch wide. The sharp book corners must have laddered her tights when Jasper startled her earlier. The hole would have been concealed by her skirt when she was standing. It was clearly visible now, and Edward 's thumb was lightly resting on the edge of it.

_Oh. Bugger. _

"Isabella, as per the terms of our wager, I need access to your exposed skin." Bella began to squirm. She didn't like where this was going.

"Spread your legs." Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She opened her legs hesitantly.

"Wider." She obeyed the authority in his voice instinctively.

"Wider." She had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

She watched as Edward calmly got down on his knees between her legs. He examined the hole in her tights with a clinical coolness before tracing it with the tip of his thumb. Bella closed her eyes and tried to control her shiver coursing through her body.

"No, I want you to look at me when I'm doing this to you." His thumb was stroking her skin now.

"Please...I..."

"Please what? All you have to do is say my name." His voice was soft, but the fingers teasing her thigh were softer.

"Come closer to me, Isabella." Bella shifted closer to the edge of the seat, acutely aware that she was exposing more of herself to him. He dipped his head and planted a lingering kiss in the middle of the rip, making her gasp.

He watched her reaction and leaned in for another kiss, this time closer to her centre. Satisfied with the little cry that escaped her, he reached for her right hand which was clutching on to the sofa for dear life, and smoothly guided it to the back of his head. He dipped his head again.

The little licks started out slow, languorous, as if he was taking his time to taste her skin. She found herself gripping his hair. _So soft._

"Please..."

The licks became more urgent, more insistent.

"Please...I want..."

She knew, rationally, that his mouth could only go as far as the rip in her tights. But it didn't stop her from pressing his head to her in a silent plea.

His tongue was moving faster now. He had been holding back.

His breath was near the highest point of the rip. So close. But not close enough.

She couldn't..she wanted...

"Please...please..._please_..._Edward_!"

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><p><strong>Reviews are better than clotted cream and home-made strawberry jam on warm, freshly-baked scones. Unless said scones are served by Manorward. Or on Manorward.<strong>

**I originally planned the wager to last 5 days, with Bella crumbling on the last day, Friday. In the end, I decided that it would drag things out too much. The original "Friday" chapter involves a wardrobe malfunction. Outtake maybe.**

**Hole-in-stocking inspired by a brief but potent scene from "The Piano", Jane Campion's award-winning 1993 movie.**


	11. The Date

Many thanks to LuvCullens for recc'ing this story on her fic "Sincerely, Lieutenant Cullen"_._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 – The Date<strong>

"_Edward!"_

_The wager is over. _

_I've won. _

_The shock is so great I stop what I'm doing and just lie there with my cheek on her leg, panting._

_Small hands tug at my collar. Insistent._

_I let her pull me back onto the sofa. _

_This is over, but she...she wants more. _

_S__he's stretched out on the sofa. Oh god, she wants me on top of her. _

_My hands are everywhere. It feels so good, so liberating after four days of torture. Four days of denial. I feel greedy. Dizzy with options. _

_I push two fingers into the rip in her tights. Just slow small circles on her warm skin. I need to hear it again. _

_She calls my name and arches her back. I'm immediately distracted by her breasts. _

_My hands cover her ribs. The rough skin on my fingers catches on the thin fabric of her top. _

_Too many layers. I want them gone. _

_My thumb traces the curve on the underside of her breast. Can I? I want...I need..._

_I've broken so many promises to myself along the way. What's one more?_

_No no no. I bury my face in her neck. Her neck is safe. _

_My head is heavy. I feel drugged, drunk on the sweet-smelling, warm, squirming mess of girl under me._

_I want to kiss her. But I don't. _

_I try. I try so hard to be a gentleman. But I haven't been thinking like a gentleman since Tuesday._

_Tuesday, when she sucked my whisky-drenched finger into her mouth._

_Her leg is around my waist. I run my hand down it until I hit the smooth leather of her boots. _

_Those boots. _

_I calculate the time it would take to remove the boots, the tights, her knickers. _

_20 seconds. _

_I could be buried inside her in 20 seconds. Less if I just rip the tights and push aside her..._

_No no no no no no. _

"_We should get you home. Your mother will be worried." I peel myself away from her. She's dazed, then annoyed. _

_I hand her my heavy overcoat and grab a thinner jacket I have lying around in the library for myself. Even with her coat, she's ridiculously under-dressed for the weather. I ignore her protests and bundle her in the thick wool. My hands linger on her shoulders longer than necessary. _

_The path feels narrow with two people side by side. I'm used to walking by myself behind her, hoping she would turn around, just once. _

_She never did._

_Now, she steals glances at me, and then blushes when she gets caught. I know because I have no qualms about staring at her. _

_Too soon we are at the wooded bend in the path where I usually leave her. _

"_Bella." Her name comes out in a rush of wispy white in the cold. It's the first time I've ever called her by that name. I love the sound. Bella Bella Bella. _

"_Lunch at one o'clock tomorrow. Meet me by the river, under that tree where you used to read ." _

_She's frowning. Please don't frown. You're too beautiful to frown. _

"_Bella, the date, remember?" _

_I have a plan. When it comes to her, I always have a plan._

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><p>Bella was a ball of nerves as she made her way to the river.<p>

It wasn't a real date, she told herself. She lost a wager, that was all.

Bella was determined not to dress up for it. Her one concession was that she combed her hair and let it down.

She was embarrassed by her wantonness on Thursday and humiliated by his subsequent rejection of her. She wished she had been the one to pull back instead of him; she would have kept some of her dignity that way.

Bella rationalised her behaviour: she got competitive and lost her head; she was sexually inexperienced and unprepared for the advances of someone like Edward. Unbidden, an image of Tanya's manicured, blood-red nails raking down Edward's naked back invaded her head. She shook it away with a shudder.

She would be gracious in her defeat, she decided. They would have their little "date", after which she would keep a professional distance. The novelty of their Romeo-and-Juliet-children-of-feuding-clans routine would eventually wear off for Edward and he would turn his attentions to someone more appreciative. Someone like Tanya. She grimaced. Okay, someone nicer than Tanya.

She would keep working until her mother got better and she could find a proper job else where.

As she neared their meeting spot, it occurred to Bella that she had no idea where they would lunch. Would he take her to a restaurant? Surely not, he knew she wouldn't risk being seen by anyone in the village. A picnic perhaps? In winter?

She was stopped short by the sight before her.

A lone narrowboat was moored by the river bank, its glossy red exterior defiantly cheerful against the dull winter palette of browns and greys.

Bella was charmed. She had never been inside a narrowboat. She wondered if she would be able to sneak a peek through the windows.

To her astonishment, a familiar figure emerged from the door of the cabin to give her a friendly salute. "Ahoy there!"

If Bella hadn't been so surprised, she would have rolled her eyes at Edward.

"This your ship, Captain?"

"Nay, I borrowed it from a friend of a friend. Welcome aboard, mind your step."

Bella accepted his hand and climbed onto the boat.

Modelled after the cargo boats that used to navigate Britain's network of narrow canals and locks in the 18th and 19th centuries, narrowboats are easily distinguished by their long and slender form and their often colourful, painted exteriors. The boat Edward borrowed was 60' in length and only 6'10" wide.

"I didn't want us to have to stay in the library. This is not very spacious, but it's warm and private, and wouldn't look too out of place around these parts." Edward explained.

It was true. Occasional canal boats passed through the area in the warmer seasons. A narrowboat moored there in the winter might seem a little unusual but would not attract as much attention as a larger, more luxurious yacht. Given the weather and their need for secrecy, this was really the best option. Once again, Bella was struck by his thoughtfulness.

Inside, the cabin was warm and intimate. The saloon area consisted of a long L-shape bench seat upholstered in burgundy arranged around a small dining table. Behind this was a compact open kitchen with all the essential appliances cunningly packed into just two stretches of counters. The living space, though highly functional, was made cosy by mahogany and ash wood panelling and short, jaunty curtains. The boat also had two small bedrooms with storage units crammed into every nook and cranny, a tiny bathroom with a shower and a generous deck at the rear. Bella could imagine herself sitting on the deck in summer, book in one hand, cold drink in the other as the boat slowly glided through the lush countryside.

As they passed through the crammed bedrooms to get back to the saloon, Edward commented, "I've slept in one of these, they are surprisingly comfortable." Bella stared at the double bed, her face steadily reddening.

"No no I didn't mean...let's go eat before the food gets cold." Edward was now blushing too.

For a meal assembled out of a mountain of boxes, lunch was a surprisingly sophisticated affair with crab terrine to start, duck confit for mains followed by crème brûlée. Each course was washed down with an accompanying wine.

This was the best meal Bella had enjoyed since her father died. Granted, any properly prepared meal would taste better than the instant noodles and toast that currently formed the bulk of her diet. The flavour of the food and its presentation seemed awfully familiar..."Wait...this isn't from La Maison, is it?" La Maison was her favourite restaurant in the county.

Edward just smiled cryptically.

The wine smoothed over the bumpy start to the date. Before long, they were chatting easily about books, music, food and travel.

"What's your favourite travel moment?"

Bella thought for a moment before replying.

"Waking up to a lavender field in Provence. Eating the best gelato in the world after visiting the Uffizi in Florence. Bumping into a geisha on the little streets of Kyoto. Getting lost in the Met Museum in New York. Trying to take a picture of the Ta Prohm temple in Cambodia that would actually do it justice...I've been to so many wonderful places, but I've never been to Africa or South America. I would love to, one day perhaps..."

Her voice trailed off. With her mother, no money and only a part-time job, "one day" was looking very far away indeed.

"Well, I've heard of all the places you've mentioned, but I've only been to half of them. You are much better-travelled than I am. I'm quite envious, actually."

"Really? Didn't you take a gap year?" Bella was surprised. Many of her peers took a year off before entering university to travel and see the world. The less affluent ones worked as au pairs or whatever job they could find to support themselves financially while doing so. The socially-conscious volunteered on charity-missions to Third-World countries to teach English or build wells. And then there were the privileged ones who turned the gap year into a year-long party across the globe. Bella had skipped hers. At the time, she had no idea of the dire financial straits her family was in, but she could tell that her father was cutting back. She started university straight away and went backpacking during the long school holidays on a shoestring budget. For the Cullens however, money was obviously not an issue.

"Nope. My father had me working for him as soon as I was old enough to spell the words 'portfolio diversification'. I spent most of my school holidays either working on the estate or shadowing him in business meetings. He was very keen for me to start as early as possible.

"He wants to retire soon. I doubt I'll be able to take a long holiday for a while. If I do, it'd have to be for something important, like a honeymoon."

For Bella, this was another little insight into the enigma that was Edward Cullen. Early on in their acquaintance, she had somehow assumed that he was just another pleasure-seeking trust fund baby with many "projects" on the go but no actual responsibilities. This was clearly not the case. It all made sense now – the strain on his face when he came to the library at the end of the day, his regret at no longer having time to read. At the age of twenty-seven, when many of his peers were still finding their feet in their careers, Edward was taking over the responsibility of a long family legacy with scores of jobs at stake.

Edward continued. "When I _really_ want to get away, I go to Scotland, to this little remote place I have on the Isle of Skye. I love the sea, the landscape, it's so wild, untamed...so _honest. _Heck, I even like the weather. Nothing like horizontal rain lashing at you at fifty-miles-an-hour to remind you you're in the Hebrides. And of course, the whisky's excellent."

Bella, who had been painting a vivid picture of the rugged Scottish landscape in her mind started blushing furiously at the word "whisky". This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She would not blush every time an alcoholic beverage was mentioned just because someone had once licked it off her elbow.

His voice softened. "There is this little restaurant housed in a crofter's cottage by the sea. It's in the middle of nowhere, even for a middle of nowhere place like Skye. They do the most exquisite things with local Scottish produce. You'd love it."

The unspoken invitation hung in the space between them.

After petits fours and coffee, it was time to leave. Bella decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at her as Edward was helping her off the boat.

"Edward, when did you arrange this? I'm sure it takes more than a day to find a boat and sail it here. Did you know I was going to...to lose?"

Edward took a deep breath. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to ask you out for some time now. The boat has been here for a couple of days. It's not because I was so confident of winning. Just in case I did win, I didn't want to give you any time to back out." He gave her hand a light squeeze before releasing it.

Unsure of how to react, Bella turned away and started in the direction home.

"Bella."

Edward was rooted to the spot, eyes earnest. He was waiting.

She took one step towards him. Then the next. And the next until they were a breath apart.

His kiss said everything he couldn't.

Maybe she told herself she was simply holding up her end of the bargain. Perhaps it was because of the beautiful meal he had obviously taken pains to put together. Or maybe it was because his lips were so, so soft.

For whatever reason, Bella found herself kissing him back.

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><p>Thanks for reading :)<p>

British "Knickers" = American "Panties"

Narrowboat - Link to pics in my profile


	12. The Heir

**Many thanks to Saranic and Kassiah at Fictionators for reviewing and recommending this story. I feel very honoured :)**

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><p><strong>My Dear Little Biscuits (a.k.a. Dear Readers),<strong>

**This chapter is short, but fret not, another is on its way. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 – The Heir<strong>

Bella stared at the hand reposing next to hers on the desk. Slender fingers, curved just so, graceful and poised even at rest. Short, clean nails. She remembered the slightly hardened skin on the finger pads.

She wondered what would happen if she were to move her hand just one inch to the right and make contact. Her little finger twitched at the thought.

A voice hovered above her head. Excitement, about something.

What were they talking about again?

Oh right, "The Great Gatsby".

"...so the easiest way to tell that this is a true First State copy is to look for the lowercase 'j' in 'jay Gatsy' on the back of the dust cover. It was a printing error and hand-corrected on most copies." He moved to sit opposite her, one leg still bouncing with energy.

"Edward, why do you like it so much?" She smiled a little indulgently at his enthusiasm.

"This book is the jewel of my Modern collection. It's incredibly rare to find a copy with the dust cover in such good condition..."

"No, no, not what it's worth to a collector, I meant, why do _you_ like it?"

He hesitated. "I think I can identify with Jay Gatsby, or rather James Gatz."

"Really? What can you possibly have in common with a shady, social-climbing bootlegger?"

He didn't answer her straight away. Instead he gathered his things and headed for the door, only turning at the last moment to reply with a small smile.

"Yearning, Bella. Gatsby and I understand yearning."

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><p>After the week of escalating sexual brinkmanship that they had during the wager, things now seemed to Bella a tad, well, <em>quiet<em>. She waited for Edward to make a move, to try to kiss her, hold her, or even just lean in too close.

So far – nothing.

The only time he touched her was when she wobbled coming down the library ladder. He had been by her side in an instant, holding her around the waist to steady her steps as she climbed down. She might or might not have slowed her movements to prolong the contact.

Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure what she would have done if he had pushed for more physical intimacy. She only knew that she wanted his attention, not what she was going to do with it once she got it. Having limited dating experience and no desire to engage in the sexual cat-and-mouse games that so many women play, she operated on instinct alone, which was confusing enough.

Bella would have assumed that he had lost interest in her if not for the curious incident she witnessed. She was returning to her desk from the Shelf Room when she saw him pick up her scarf which had fallen onto the floor. Instead of draping it back onto the chair straight away, he had stood there staring at it in his hand, his thumb stroking the soft wool. After some moments, he lifted the scarf almost to his face, changed his mind and set it firmly back on the chair. Afterwards, she pretended not to have noticed anything and he gave her a wider physical berth than usual.

Instead, Edward had been unusually open and talkative. Even as he got busier, he seized every moment to chat with her. He was always there at the end of the day to walk her home, eager to share a childhood anecdote or tell her about his day. This way, Bella found out a few completely unrelated facts about Edward Cullen.

Because he had been so busy ever since he graduated from university, his knowledge of current popular culture was hopeless, and he thought that 'Justin Bieber' was a cartoon beaver.

The last time he cried, he was 16; he had come home from boarding school to find his childhood pet Labrador dying.

His first crush was Agent Dana Scully from "The X-Files", because she was "intelligent, self-possessed and looked like she stepped out of a Rossetti painting".

The one and only time he threw a punch at another man, Alice was somehow involved.

He regretted not seeing enough of the world, but knew that the Cullen estate will always be home.

Bella also learnt that like his father before him, Edward's greatest fear was becoming the Cullen to ruin the legacy that took so many generations hundred of years to build.

"Edward, why is your father so hard on you?"

Edward considered the question thoughtfully before replying softly, "My grandfather died suddenly, so when my father took over, he was young and had no clue what he was doing. He nearly bankrupted the estate. It took him years of hard work and sacrifice to build it back up to what it is today.

"He didn't want the same thing to happen to me, so he started training me at a young age. I think he always felt that he gave up his whole life for a legacy he never asked for. That's why he wants to retire soon, so he can do the things he never had the chance to do."

Bella contrasted this with her own experience. Charles Swan had adopted a laissez faire attitude towards her inheriting, assuming that she would learn when she had to. He had always encouraged her to do whatever she wanted, assuring her that the estate would be waiting for her when she was ready to come home. Bella felt a rush of fondness for her father, tinged with the bitterness that his thoughtfulness might have contributed to his undoing.

An unexpected but welcomed addition to their time in the library was Jasper. While Edward and Bella danced around each other in romantic no-man's-land, the air between them was choked with unspoken words and unsated desires. Jasper dissipated the tension with his easy mien, often cracking jokes at his own expense. He only _very _occasionally amused himself by making one or both of them blush with pointed references to the unresolved romantic energy in the room.

While Edward behaved like a gentleman with her, a dignified and gracious landowner with the villagers, with Jasper, he was...a _boy_. Watching the two grown men re-enacting the ridiculous "Ministry of Silly Walks" sketch from "Monty Python", she was first stunned, then tickled by the goofiness he was capable of.

She was instantly comfortable with Jasper and found herself bantering with him. Jasper, like so many men in long-term relationships, was well-versed in literary romantic heroes and could hold his own in an informed debate on the merits of Mr Darcy versus Mr Thornton.

They were discussing the recent screen adaptations of "Pride and Prejudice" while Edward looked on, bemused.

"Which one? The one with Keira Knightley or the one without?"

"Jasper! I'm outraged that you used _Keira Knightley_ as a reference point for a classic novel held so dear by generations of readers."

"All right then. The one with Colin Firth, or the one without?"

"The one without."

"You didn't protest that one."

"Well yes, but his Mr Darcy dived into a lake and emerged with his stiff upper lip intact. That's quite an accomplishment. Besides, he's won an Oscar now. You automatically qualify as a reference point when you win an Oscar."

"Double-standards!" Jasper pretended to sulk but brightened quickly. "Speaking of Keira Knightley, she looked _stunning_ in 'Atonement'. That green dress...oh that library scene..."

Bella fell silent. She knew exactly which library scene he was referring to. It was a love scene in which the main protagonists made torrid love against a bookshelf. Unbidden, memories of her time on the sofa with Edward came flooding back and she started to shift a little uncomfortably. Her unease was not missed by Jasper who leapt at the opportunity to make her squirm.

"Hang on, _this_ library doesn't look so different from the one in the movie. But of course, for the scene to work, you need two people to be roughly the same height..." Jasper swept his gaze meaningfully from the top of Edward's 6'2" frame down to Bella's smaller form. The faint pink on Bella's cheeks flared into a full red blush.

Edward had not seen the movie but could guess by her face that Jasper was up to no good. He came to her rescue and said firmly,

"Jasper, you need to go, the stable needs you."

"The stable?"

"Yes, you've just been demoted from estate manager to stable hand. Go muck out the stalls."

"Well fine Edward, but you'll miss me when you have to go to Heidi's office without my protection."

"Who's Heidi?" Jealousy was a new and unpleasant sensation for Bella.

"She's one of our suppliers, a complete cougar. She looooooves Edward." Jasper leaned forward, pouting grotesquely while squeezing together his imaginary breasts.

"Oh no Jasper, we both know she prefers blonds. You should see the way she zeros in on his cute little bottom."

Bella looked at the two fine, young specimens before her jostling each other. Never mind a cougar, she imagined that most women would be pleased to have the pair visiting their offices.

"Yes, it's true. I cannot deny that I have an exemplary arse. It's a blessing and a curse. I will now take my exemplary arse out of here and back to work." Jasper hopped off the desk he was sitting on and headed towards the door, but not before pausing to give his much-remarked-upon behind a sharp, loud slap.

Bella rolled her eyes while Edward shouted at his retreating form.

"You got it wrong Jasper, you ARE an exemplary arse!"

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><p>On Friday morning, Bella met Edward at a secluded spot for their second not-quite-date. Edward was driving down to London for a short meeting and had shyly invited her along to have lunch in the city and see an exhibition afterwards. She had said yes almost immediately. The prospect of visiting London after months cooped up in Forks was an exciting one. The prospect of spending time with a besuited Edward was no less appealing.<p>

"What's that?" He asked, pointing at the large parcel she was carrying.

"Books. My alibi. I told my mother I was going to London to see a book dealer about selling some books."

"And does this book dealer have a name?" Edward teased gently while opening the passenger door for her. "A Mr C perhaps?"

"Yes." Bella blushed a little. "I told her I'm seeing Mr Gatz."

Edward threw his head back and laughed.

The two not-quite-friends, not-quite-lovers were so caught up in each other they did not notice the lone figure in the distance, observing their every move.

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><p><strong>Reviews are better than riding in a car with a besuited Manorward, watching him manoeuvre the powerful machine with masculine ease... :)<strong>

**Next chapter should be out very soon.**


	13. The Revelation

**Many thanks to wandb for recc'ing this story in her fic "Confidential". **

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><p><strong>My Darling Mini Jaffacakes,<strong>

**I just want to thank everyone who's read my story, especially those who took the trouble to review, and those who have said kind things about it on forums and Twitter. I was really nervous about posting my first fic, but everyone's been so sweet and supportive. Thank you. *insert dramatic single tear that miraculously leaves makeup intact***

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><p><strong>This chapter is quite dense and has a lot of scene changes. It reads more like 5 mini-chapters. Brace yourselves!<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 – The Revelation<strong>

"Garrett! How nice of you to visit!" Renee was tittering as she flitted about their small living room straightening their few anaemic cushions.

Bella cringed. Renee never quite adopted the dignified, matronly air appropriate for a woman of her age and position. Much to Bella's horror, she had retained the coquettish manners of her youth, especially around attractive, young men. At that moment, these coquettish charms were being inflicted on Garrett who had dropped in on their cottage unannounced on Saturday morning.

"Renee! How could I resisting coming to see the two loveliest ladies in Forks? I was on my way to the village, and I was wondering if Bella'd like to walk with me on this fine morning?"

Renee giggled at "loveliest ladies". Bella could bear it no more. She agreed immediately and ushered Garrett out the door with almost indecent haste. Renee's sly look was not lost on her. It was quite possible that her mother had already picked out the hat to wear to her wedding.

Their conversation was, as usual, amusing and inconsequential. As they approached the village centre, Bella became aware of the loaded looks the women were throwing in their direction. It was the second time she had been spotted in public with Garrett (the first being the fête), and tongues were wagging. She shrugged it off. She had never engaged in petty village gossip; she wasn't about to start now.

She said goodbye to Garrett, who had already been drawn into an absorbing conversation about the mercurial weather, and popped into the greengrocers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Esme approach tentatively. She found this rather curious. She recalled Edward buying apples on the first and only day she worked at Newton's. Did the Cullens actually buy their own food?

Esme Cullen was lovely to behold. Her face showed every sign of having grown into its beauty, rather than fading out of it. The grey at her temples was left untouched, her laugh lines proudly worn. She had a graciousness that came with age and the perspective it brought.

Now why couldn't her mother be like that?

"It's Isabella, isn't it? I'm Esme. We've been never been properly introduced." Esme's eyes searched hers. _She has such kind eyes_, Bella thought to herself. "Benevolent" was the word that popped into her head.

"Ummm, pleased to meet you." They had barely met and already Bella felt guilty for deceiving her. _I'm secretly working for your son! I've been coming to your house every day for months!_

"I visited your mother a few weeks ago, but she wasn't feeling well, so I didn't stay long." Something in her tone told Bella that Esme didn't receive the warmest welcome at the cottage.

"Anyway, Carlisle and I are having our 30th Wedding Anniversary party in a few weeks. We'd love for you and your mother to come, if you are free."

"Thank you for inviting us." Bella knew that the chances of her mother agreeing to go were practically nil.

The older woman suddenly gripped her hand and spoke in a low, earnest voice, "I know our families haven't been on the best of terms, but I'd love nothing more than to put all that behind us. If you ever need anything, _anything_ at all, please come to me and I'd do my best to help." In that moment, Bella saw an uncanny resemblance between mother and son. She found herself blinking back tears at the sincerity in Esme's voice.

"Of course, tha...thank you, Esme."

"All right then dear, take care of yourself." She patted Bella's hand. "Send my regards to your mother!" The odd, intense moment had passed, and the two women soon went their separate ways. Bella was left wondering what it would be like to be friends with the lovely Esme Cullen.

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><p>Bella walked in almost complete darkness, with only the moonlight to guide her steps. The wind was biting but she didn't feel a thing. She was focused on the task ahead of her. There it was, third window from the right, the one that could never be locked because it didn't quite closed properly. She pushed her fingers into the gap and lifted with all her strength. Nothing. The cold weather had made the wooden sash window stiff. She cursed herself for not having the presence of mind to bring a tool of some sort.<p>

"Need a hand?" Bella gave a little yelp. Edward seemed to magically materialise from the darkness.

"Edward! What are you doing here?"

"I had a feeling you would come. Look, I brought this." Edward lifted the crowbar in his hand and set to work levering the window. It lifted with a decisive creak.

"Besides," he continued dryly. "I know all the local constables. That might come in handy when we get arrested."

Earlier in the day, Edward had sat her down and delivered the news: her former home Swan Manor and its land had been sold to a hospitality group and would soon be converted into a boutique hotel.

"Edward, _you_ went to view the house. Why didn't you buy it?" Bella was desperate. It didn't matter that the Cullens were rivals, having the house in private hands was better than seeing it stripped and depersonalised by a faceless hotel group.

"I'm sorry Bella. The main house needed too much work. It would have been expensive to maintain as well. To tell you the truth, some years the Cullen estate barely breaks even. The repair and restoration work is a huge drain on our finances. We rely on our other investments to shore this place up."

Bella had decided there and then that she needed to see her childhood home one last time before it was turned into a soulless, corporate monstrosity by some trendy architect. She waited until the early hours of the morning to break into her former home.

She climbed in through the window and fumbled around for a light switch. The brightness blinded her eyes momentarily. The bank must have kept the power connected so that the manor could be viewed by prospective buyers in winter.

It was the smell that hit her first. The musty, decaying smell of an unused, unloved building.

The discolouration on the walls which outlined all the furniture that had once stood there, in some cases for decades, only served to mark their absence and make the rooms seem even emptier.

Bella's footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards as she walked around the house, trying to populate each space with her memories. She played hide-and-seek here; she read her first Roald Dahl books there, on the window ledge. She rode a bicycle down this hallway and got soundly scolded for it. She begged their housekeeper Mrs Cope, in this kitchen, for one more slice of pie. She asked her father to read her a book here, in the library, when he was trying to work.

She tried her best to fill the emptiness with her happy memories but all she could see now were the cracks and blisters on the walls, the water stains on the ceilings, the mould that crept up from the corners. The house had been in disrepair for years, she just never saw it.

But this would soon change. The house would have a new owner. It would be gutted, refitted, repainted. It would have a new life, a new purpose. The house from her memories had long disappeared. She had to let go.

Everything that had rooted her existence was truly gone. Her father, her childhood home, the estate she was supposed to inherit. This realisation made her dizzy and she staggered, blinded by her tears. She shot her hands out instinctively, groping unseeingly for something to hold on to. A warm hand grasped hers and righted her balance. Edward had followed behind her so quietly she had almost forgotten he was there. Bella held on to his hand gratefully. "I think I'm ready to go now."

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><p>A few days after their late-night visit to Swan Manor, Edward came into the library and collapsed heavily into his favourite armchair. His face was wearier than Bella had ever seen, his shoulders defeated. Though she had never done so before, she went to the cabinet where he kept his whisky and poured him a drink.<p>

"What happened?"

"The farms on the estate haven't been doing so well for a while now. I've had to make some cuts. We can't afford new staff. That means more work for everyone. Things will probably get worse. Nobody likes me very much right now."

Bella remembered how he had quietly stood by her and held her hand in Swan Manor. She was desperate to do something to reciprocate, to soothe his hurt. Before she could second-guess herself, she walked up to his armchair, climbed onto his lap and put her arms around him.

"That's not true. _I _like you." She placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

The shock on his face melted into tenderness, and then...hope.

"Say that again."

She took a deep breath. "I _like_ you." It felt good to finally admit it to herself. She looked at him. He was sitting so very still, steadily holding her gaze.

He was waiting. It was entirely in her hands now.

"I like you. Very much, in fact." She leaned in and brushed the lips she had been tracing over in her daydreams with her own.

It never occurred to Bella that all this time, Edward had been patiently waiting. Waiting for her to know him. Waiting for them to become friends. Waiting for her to show some sign, any sign, that one day she would care for him as much as he cared for her.

So, when he abruptly closed his arms around her and crushed her body to his, she was taken aback by force of his kiss.

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><p>It was an exceptionally cold winter in England. On this particular day, instead of the usual drizzle that drained the landscape of its colour, the countryside was coated with a plump layer of snow, dazzling in its whiteness.<p>

Deep in snow-covered countryside stood a handsome Georgian house. In a quiet wing of this handsome Georgian house was a beautiful library. In the library, there was a great, roaring fire. In front of the fire, was a carelessly discarded boot. Further from the fireplace, another boot, and then, a skirt, cast in a heap by the foot of the sofa.

Stretched out on the sofa was a young woman, naked except for a pair of white cotton briefs and knee-high woollen socks. It would appear that someone had started to lift her layers of jumpers over her head but had stopped once the jumper neck cleared her mouth. This partially-removed tangle of clothes blindfolded her eyes and trapped her arms above her head. The young woman licked her lips. They were swollen and slightly bruised. Her breaths were shallow and laboured.

She was not alone. On the sofa, settled between her legs, was a serious young man, fully-clothed in an expensive suit. He had been teasing her breasts with his palms and fingers for some minutes. Deciding she was ready for more, he bent down and gently took one nipple into his mouth. He had been waiting to do this for a long time now. Her throaty moan soon forced him to stop.

He released her nipple reluctantly and began to free her from the twisted mess around her head. Once liberated, she pulled him down to her eagerly, the suit fabric scrubbing her bare skin.

"Bella," She was biting his earlobe. "Would it be presumptuous of me to plan a trip for us soon? Somewhere with more privacy perhaps?" His voice cracked. "Cos I can't take this any more."

"What's wrong with here? Now?" She wrapped her legs around him. "I can be quiet." They both knew she was lying.

"Our _first_ time together will be on a proper bed." He shifted so that his weight immobilised her completely. He whispered in her ear, "Besides, I don't _want_ you to be quiet."

Edward let his fingers trail down her body to between her legs. He clamped his mouth on hers before her cries could send the household staff running into the library.

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><p>Bella folded the clothes into a neat pile while her mother threw the bits and pieces that needed to be packed onto the bed. The invitation from Renee's cousins could not have come at a better time.<p>

Renee's cousins had invited them to their French chalet for a ski holiday. Bella declined, saying that she couldn't take time off work but encouraged her mother to go. As expected, Renee had been saddened by the sale of Swan Manor. A change of scenery, exercise and lively company would do her a world of good, Bella thought.

Of course, Bella had a more selfish reason for not wanting to go to France. With her mother gone, she would be able to spend more time with Edward. And there was that trip he was planning...Bella's neck felt warm despite the chill in the cottage.

The chime of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. It was Garrett, asking her out for a walk in the woods. Bella frowned. She never detected any romantic intent on Garrett's part; perhaps she was wrong. He was always flirtatious, but then again he was flirtatious with everyone, even the village octogenarians. She felt uneasy about the matter now that she was with Edward, even more uneasy remembering that the two men did not like each other, for whatever reason.

She decided to use the opportunity to drop some hints to Garrett that she wasn't interested. Bella grabbed her coat and left with him, ignoring her mother's unsubtle winks.

They had just reached the edge of the woods when Garrett casually asked her,

"Oh and by the way, where were you going with Edward?"

"What?" Her spine stiffened.

"I saw you get into Edward's car. On Friday, about two weeks ago."

_Bugger bugger bugger_. What should she say? Garrett knew her mother. But Garrett was also her friend. Could he be trusted? She decided to err on the side of caution.

"Oh that. I needed to go to London. He was going there for business and offered me a ride."

"Oh, that's why he was wearing a suit. He seemed _rather_ friendly with you, I thought."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Bella shrugged for effect. "Isn't he with that strawberry blonde? What's her name? The rude one. Tina?" She thanked her lucky stars that she had been rather awkward and distant with Edward that Friday morning.

"Tanya. Well, she's not in Forks now, is she? Isabella," Garrett turned to her, his eyes serious. "You're a beautiful young woman who's just been through a lot. Some people could take advantage of that."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Edward can be very charming when he needs to be. And persistent. I just want to warn you before the Cullen heir starts lavishing you with flowers and chocolate."

Garrett had unknowingly hit a spot. Bella turned to go. "We should head back, I want to help my mother pack."

"Isabella," Garrett's voice took on an urgency she had never heard from him. "You know I worked with your father on the river rights suit against the Cullens." Bella froze at the mention of her father.

"There's something else I never told you. The lawsuit...it got really ugly towards the end. Edward was very upset...he started a countersuit against your father.

"Isabella, your father received the letter informing him of the countersuit the morning he suffered his heart attack."


	14. The Letters

**Thanks to MissMaj and Wordy Bitches for their rec. I'm both fascinated and mildly disturbed (in the best possible way) by your site banner.**

**Thanks to Emmy, Jess and Perv Pack's Smut Shack for their rec (your name's a tongue-twister, I can't say it quickly, not even in my head). And I had to google "Flangst". It sounds like a cross between a cut of meat and something really, really dirty. I was disappointed to discover it's neither.**

**Thanks to The Lemonade Stand blog for their mention. I've been twice the bridesmaid and never the bride, but I'm quite content just to be mentioned :)  
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><p><strong>My Dearest Chocolate-Covered Digestive Biscuits (McVites only, never, ever generic brand),<strong>

**I know this has been the longest I've gone without an update (3 weeks). I apologise for the delay. I realised that I had no way of letting you it was going to be late without triggering a false update alert, so I've decided to start using the Twitter account I've been name-squatting since June. If you want to follow me, just search "wildredpoppies" or link from my profile.**

**Thanks for reading. Your reviews make me laugh, cry and only very occasionally fear for my (and Garrett's) personal safety.**

**Love,**

**WRP**

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><p><strong>I'm writing an AU-take for "A River Between" for the Fandom for The Leukemia &amp; Lymphoma Society. Details and link on my profile. Please donate generously.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 – The Letters<strong>

_**Previously...**_

_"There's something else I never told you. The lawsuit...it got really ugly towards the end. Edward was very upset...he started a countersuit against your father._

_"Isabella, your father received the letter informing him of the countersuit the morning he suffered his heart attack."_

"Your father was losing the case. I think towards the end we all knew it was a lost cause. That also meant that he'd be ordered to pay the Cullens' legal costs as well, and you know how his finances were at that point...which was why it made no sense for the Cullens to countersue him for damages. I mean, why kick a man when he's down? It was just so unnecessary...so _vindictive._ I think that was what tipped your father over the edge, the stress of it all."

A blunt, heavy numbness sat on Bella's chest and spread slowly down her limbs. For the next few seconds, it was as if she had been plunged underwater; her vision was blurred, her hearing muffled. Garrett's mouth continued to move while she blinked at him, trying to fashion the sounds into words and meaning.

"I'm sorry to break this to you now...I only realised you didn't know when I saw you get into his car. I thought to myself, there was no way Isabella could be this friendly with him if she knew what Cullen did..."

If she thought she was completely numb, she was wrong. A new, ugly emotion crept in. It was Guilt. Closely followed by her toxic little sister, Shame.

"Look Isabella, maybe you don't believe me, but I'm sure the documents are somewhere amongst your father's things." Seeing that she was still in shock, Garrett gently pulled her to sit on a bench by the path.

"Isabella, I _know_ Edward, we practically grew up together. You know my father was a gardener for the Cullens. After he died suddenly, Carlisle Cullen took an interest in me. He paid for me to go to the same posh public school as Edward so that I could receive the best education. Later, when I got into Oxford, he paid for that too. He was like a father to me.

"Edward...he's not a bad person, we just never got along. I suppose I needed a father, and he didn't want to share. Maybe he felt threatened by me. Sometimes I wonder whether Edward would've been so aggressive in your father's case if I hadn't been involved..."

Something didn't quite make sense and Bella clung to this little discrepancy like a drowning woman. She just barely choked the words out. "Garrett, if Carlisle was like a father to you, how did you end up on opposite sides?"

"I used to intern for Carlisle in the summer holidays. You know, I had this stupid idea that I would work for him after I've graduated, so that I could repay him for everything he's done for me. That just made Edward even more hostile. It didn't help that I started dating his cousin Alice when she visited them for the summer. It was a summer romance that ended badly. I don't know what Edward said to Carlisle, but after that, though he kept paying for school, it was clear that I was no longer welcome at the Cullen Mansion.

"So, I know Edward well. We didn't run in the same circles at Oxford but I _know_ him. Like I said, he's not a bad person, but the estate means more to him than anything else. He'd do anything to protect it."

Bella leaped from the bench, suddenly desperate to get away from Garrett and his words. It wasn't his fault she knew, he was just the messenger, but she couldn't help the bile of resentment that was rising in her throat.

She resented that he dredged up the feud that she had taken so long to come to terms with.

She resented that his words had blown apart the fragile little life she had painstakingly rebuilt from the pieces of her former existence.

And most of all, she resented what this meant for her and Edward.

Garrett seemed to understand that she needed space. He trailed behind her as they walked towards the cottage together, both lost in their own thoughts.

She reached home without remembering quite how she got there. She hovered by her front door, willing him to leave so she could think. Garrett however, had one final blow to deliver.

"Isabella, I'm not sure whether it's appropriate for me to say this...I'm just really worried about you..."

"What is it, Garrett?" Her tone was weary.

"Back in Oxford, Edward was quite the Casanova. The girls never lasted very long. Weeks, sometimes months...it never gets serious. The oddest thing was, they all _looked_ the same – small, slim brunettes with long hair. Tanya was the only exception. It was a long running joke in the college. Cullen and his little brunettes. What I'm saying is, Isabella, _you're exactly his type_."

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><p>It took Bella a full twenty-four hours before she gathered enough courage to look for the Cullens' countersuit documents. After Garrett dropped her off at the cottage on Saturday, she helped her mother pack the rest of her luggage before seeing her off. Renee had been so excited about her ski trip she didn't notice her daughter's inattentiveness. After that, Bella cleaned, scrubbed, tidied, did the laundry and cooked enough food to last the week to avoid facing the inevitable. On Sunday morning, she could bear it no longer and went through her father's boxes. She found it easily; it was kept together with all the papers they had found on his desk when he died. They had meant to go through them at some point but had forgotten in the midst of funeral arrangements, the news of the bankruptcy and the eviction that followed.<p>

The letter, though full of legal jargon, was clear on one point – the Cullens did indeed countersue Charles Swan for damages.

She thought about her father.

She thought about running into the Cullens for the first time in her father's library and how awkward Edward and Carlisle had been during that encounter.

She thought about Edward's tenacity in pursuing her to work for him, and how he had been practically throwing valuable books at her since.

She thought about how furious he had been when he saw her with Garrett, and how he had warned her to stay away from him.

It all pointed to one logical conclusion: guilt.

Were his romantic feelings for her an extension of that guilt? It was certainly plausible. How convenient that she already fitted the physical description of a "Cullen Brunette".

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she had been in denial the whole time. Edward could have hired someone more qualified to catalogue and integrate the book collections. Instead, he insisted on giving the job to her, a fresh graduate with no experience, one who could only work part-time.

_Guilt._

Edward had wanted only one book, the First Edition of "The Great Gatsby", and yet he had bought her father's entire collection at considerable cost, volumes from which he had been giving to her at every opportunity.

_Guilt._

For a whole day and a whole night, she argued with herself. She went over every detail of their interaction, examined every little thing he had ever said to her, done for her. Her theories swung wildly from extreme to extreme. In her darkest hour, she was convinced that Edward was a Machiavellian monster who concocted an elaborate plan to pursue and bed the daughter of his deceased enemy so that he could humiliate her to gain a final, sick triumph. At other times, she held the thinnest hope that somehow Edward knew nothing about the countersuit, and that his feelings for her were real. As dawn broke, and her tears finally ran dry, she reached a place somewhere in the middle: Edward had been trained from young to be responsible for the estate. When her father's lawsuit threatened his land, he over-reacted. He felt guilty about her father's death and saw in her an opportunity to redeem himself. Along the way, some degree (and she didn't know how much) of genuine feeling developed, but it was rooted in guilt and shame.

As she settled on this explanation, a wrenching hollowness also settled on her chest. She identified the feeling as heartache. It was laughable, she thought to herself, that just two days ago, she had been happy. Now, she could see how rickety that happiness was, for it was built on a lie.

A few hours later, Bella arrived at the library, her steps alternately propelled and slowed by anxiety and dread. She was desperate to hear Edward's side of the story, but she also expected it to be close to the conclusion she had already drawn. She was greeted with complete silence.

Placed prominently in the middle of her desk, was a piece of paper, with just four lines of verse in Edward's familiar script. It was a riddle. From the last line of the verse, she surmised that Edward had written her a letter and hidden it, away from the prying eyes of the household staff and anyone who might have wandered into the library. He was trusting her to solve the riddle to find his letter.

Bella looked at the laden shelves around her. There were thousands of volumes in the library; the perfect place to hide a secret letter from one bibliophile to another, would of course be in a book.

She let out an exasperated breath. She was in no mood for games, but she also had no way of reaching him. She read the lines again:

_Little beauty of the sea,_

_Who's the prince of your land?_

_Has he friends or foes, at rest,_

_Who'd shield my letter in his hand?_

Bella thought for a moment, her exhausted brain whirring at the challenge. The first line "Little beauty of the sea" probably referred to "The Little Mermaid", but who was the prince of her land? There was no specific "land" mentioned in the original fairytale, nor did the Little Mermaid have any brothers. Bella knew she would have to think beyond the actual text of the fairy tale. Little Mermaid's land...of course! "The Little Mermaid" was written by Hans Christian Andersen, who was Danish, so the "prince of her land" would have to be the Prince of Denmark. Bella scoffed. The most famous Prince of Denmark in literary history, was of course, Hamlet. In fact, the full title of Shakespeare's play was "The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark". She moved on to the third line "Has he friends or foes, at rest,". She knew very well who Hamlet's friends were, and the tagged-on "at rest", was obviously a clue to help her narrow the field to just one work. She headed for the "English Drama" section of the library. Once there, she glanced past shelves holding Shakespeare's plays and started scanning the works written in the latter part of the 20th century. She found the thin volume easily. The title? "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead" by Tom Stoppard. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were childhood friends of Hamlet who later betrayed him, hence "friends or foes". As she removed the letter from the book, her thoughts were noxious. How fitting, that Edward should use "Hamlet", a drama centred around the betrayal and death of a father in the struggle for power. How apt, that his letter was concealed in "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead". After all, the two were minor characters in the original Shakespeare play, mere collateral damage in the bloody clash between Hamlet and Claudius. _Am I collateral damage? _She wondered morosely. In her bitterness, she was caught off-guard by the sweet ramblings of Edward's letter.

_Dear Bella, _

_Apologies for the convoluted way this letter has been delivered to you. Please let me get you a mobile phone so I can bombard you with wildly inappropriate text messages. Inappropriate because technically, I'm your employer. That makes me uncomfortable until I remember it's the only way I get to see you. You are the best part of my weekday. _

_I __miss you. __On Saturday, I drove past your house twice, like a lovesick schoolboy. I didn't see you, only your mother. She gave me the most evil glare. It's almost as if she knew what I'm planning for the weekend. Given our collective family history, I can understand why she doesn't like me. When it's time to properly introduce myself, I shall come armed with lavish gifts to appease her. Does your mother like diamonds? _

_Speaking of the weekend, I've made arrangements for our long weekend trip to Oxford. I'd love to show you my old haunts, and maybe the Bodleian Library. Accommodations-__wise, I wavered between the privacy of a cottage and the convenience of room service in a hotel. Privacy won. The weather will almost certainly be dreadful. We can pretend to sightsee for a couple of hours before retiring to the cottage citing poor weather conditions. I should emphasise that there is absolutely no need to pack much clothing. _

_Everyone's noticed how I've been grinning like a fool. Jasper keeps dropping sly hints about how I should go to the library to "admire my new acquisition"._

_I have completely lost control over my employees. My beautiful librarian has me wrapped around her little finger while my estate manager has absolutely no respect for me - I have never been happier. _

_In case you're still in any doubt, I am completely and utterly bewitched by you. _

_I'll be working hard this afternoon to make up for taking Friday off, but I will come by to walk you home. Wait for me. I might be a little late but wait for me. I need to see you. _

_I'll be spending the rest of the day trying and failing not to think about you. _

_Yours distractedly but yours nonetheless,_

_Edward_

Her hands were wet. It took her a moment to realise that she had been crying. It suddenly dawned on her that she couldn't face Edward. When it came to him, she couldn't trust herself. Looking back, it was almost absurd how he wore down her defences every single time. He got her to work for him even though she had initially refused the offer. He persuaded her to spend an extra hour a day reading for him, which led to their first kiss. He proposed and subsequently won the wager, which led to their first date. She never had any control.

Bella took a deep breath and carefully wiped the tears off her face. She wrote a very polite and impersonal letter of resignation which she tucked into the copy of "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead". In a moment of weakness, she pocketed Edward's letter. She took slow, mechanical steps out of the library. After she locked the external door of the hidden passage, she bent down and shoved the key through the gap under the wooden door. The sound of the metal skittering across the stone floor gave her a perverse satisfaction. Now she couldn't get back in even if she wanted to.

It was one o'clock. If she hurried, she could leave Forks before he even knew she was gone.

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><p><strong>Did anyone guess the riddle?<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**I'm writing an AU-take for "A River Between" for the Fandom for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Details and link on my profile. Please donate generously.**


	15. The Bookseller

**Grrlnorth, obviously brilliant and obviously my brain twin, guessed the riddle. If I get deluded enough to write another one, it's all her fault.**

**Elements of EPOV flashback scene inspired by (stolen from) the movie "Atonement".**

**This fic is rated M for Manorward. And sexual content.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 – The Bookseller<br>**

_**Friday, the day before it all fell apart.**_

_It's been ten days since you told me you liked me. _

_Seven days since you held my hand when I walked you home.  
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_Three days since you agreed to go on a weekend away together.  
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_One day since I last kissed you._

_I got out of the meeting as soon as I could. My concentration is shattered the moment I realise you're in the building. My feet start tapping, my body is humming and I know I have to go to you. _

_At work and in the village, I'm respected, trusted. They tell me I'm sensible, responsible, mature beyond my years, a safe pair of hands. _

_But not with you. With you, I'm just a horny, lovesick boy. _

_I storm into the library and stalk towards you. You back into the shelf, brown eyes wide. It's a little game we play – we pretend that I'm the hunter and you're the prey. But how can I be the hunter when you've already caught me? _

_It's dark in the library but light enough to see the war in your eyes. _

_You want this. _

_You're afraid of this. _

_I trap you against the shelf and kiss you hard. I'm still shocked when you kiss me back. _

"_Say it again." I sound desperate and needy but I don't care. _

"_I **like** you." We don't use the other word. Your throat vibrates against my mouth when you giggle. You stop laughing when I slip my hand under your shirt. You've stopped wearing bras. I've stopped doing actual work in the library. _

_My mouth is on yours again. I swallow your little noises like a starving man while my hands grabble and grope under your clothes. The sounds you make keep me nourished while I wait for you to give me more of you. I keep waiting. _

_I'm on my knees. My hands are under your skirt dragging the little slip of cotton down to your ankles. This will be further than we've ever gone. Usually, I hold myself back but not today. Today, I need more. You help me by putting your hands on my shoulders and lifting one foot, then the other. The shy girl is gone. Sometimes I'm sure you're practically a virgin. Other times...other times you do things that make me want to bend you over the desk and take you with your skirt still around your waist. _

_I straighten up and lift your foot onto a low rung of the library ladder next to us. Just like that my fingers are **there** and I find proof that you want me. Your arms are around my neck and your face is buried against my collar. I can tell by your muffled little sounds and the pressure of your nails where to touch you, and how fast, how deep you want my fingers to go. I may have no say over your heart, but I can make your body sing._

_You break into a million pieces in my arms, and I wonder just how I'm going to last the weekend without you.  
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><p><em><strong>Auld Reekie<strong>_

Edinburgh has one of the most stunning cityscapes in the world. The dramatic silhouette of Edinburgh Castle sprawled atop its seat of craggy volcanic rock dominates the city skyline, while the winding streets and alleyways of the medieval Old Town beckons the wanderer to explore its depths. One can choose to jostle with crowds of shoppers and tourists on busy Princes Street where at least one busking bagpiper will be playing "Scotland the Brave", or saunter along the elegant streets of genial New Town with its orderly Georgian squares and terraces.

Everywhere one looks in the Scottish capital, one is sure to find something that will inspire, awe or charm.

Bella Swan saw nothing. Rather, she kept her head down as she walked the city streets to make sure she saw nothing.

Everything reminded her of Edward. The handsome Georgian townhouses made her think of Cullen Mansion. Passing a wine shop brought back memories of the bottle of Château Margaux they shared before their first kiss. Scotch whisky made her think of how he...she would not let her mind go there. She missed the library terribly and could not resist popping into a charming antiquarian bookshop in the basement of a New Town terrace. In the cramped little shop, she saw a tall, lean man with rolled-up shirt sleeves hunching over a volume. Frozen to the spot, she gaped at him until the stranger glanced up at her with mild alarm and she was forced to beat a hasty retreat.

Bella escaped north to Edinburgh to separate herself as far as possible from Edward. Her best friend from university, Zafrina, had recently relocated there and bought a run-down flat in the otherwise ruinously expensive New Town to refurbish. Frequently left alone in a new city by her trainee doctor husband, Zafrina had been asking Bella to visit for some months but was nonetheless surprised to receive a tearful phone-call from her friend asking if she could come that very day and stay.

Once in Edinburgh, Bella threw herself into the unglamorous work of scraping, sanding, prepping and painting. The backbreaking physical labour, together with the company of her funny, sharp-tongued friend kept Bella occupied while she was in the flat. It was only when they took their breaks to explore the city that her sadness and confusion came crashing down on her. She told Zafrina nothing while Zafrina eyed her with concern and distracted her as best as she could.

They were in Harvey Nichols one afternoon window-shopping. Harvey Nichols was the city's premier designer clothing departmental store. Neither could afford anything in the store, but Zafrina wanted to look, so Bella tagged along.

It was there amongst the racks of pricey merchandise that she spotted the exotic creature. The woman was extremely slim with her dark hair cropped close to her head. Instead of detracting from her femininity, her hair highlighted her perfectly-proportioned head, her exquisite bone structure, and her small, delicate features. She wore dark make-up and head-to-toe black. The overall effect was that of a teenage Goth who grew up and discovered fashion. Or perhaps a fashionista who discovered Goth.

Bella thought she looked somewhat familiar but could not place her. Perhaps feeling her stare, the woman looked up at Bella and held her gaze without blinking for several beats. To her surprise, the woman approached her. The wide smile that split her face was sudden and incongruous with her edgy, avant garde clothes.

"Isabella! I haven't seen you for such a long time! How have you been?"

"Erm...I'm good, how are you?" Bella panicked. The woman obviously knew her while she could not for the life of her remember who she was.

"I'm fabulous! I'm in Edinburgh on a work trip. Fancy meeting you here! We should catch up! Shall we have lunch?" By this point, Zafrina had walked up distractedly and caught the tail end of the conversation.

"You go ahead Bella, I need to run some errands anyway. I'll see you at home."

Bella could only look helplessly at the back of her departing friend while the woman whose name escaped her dragged her to Harvey Nichols' top floor restaurant with a surprisingly steely grip.

Thanks to the woman's pushiness, they were seated and served with unusual speed. The moment they made their orders, the woman's smile dropped as abruptly as it appeared.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't."

"Alice Whitlock, Jasper's wife. We've seen each other in Forks but I don't go back much anymore. The last time you saw me, I had long hair and Goth make-up. What did you do to my cousin?"

"Wh-what...how did you...Jasper promised..."

"I found a strand of long, brown hair on his clothes. I know everyone he works with and no one has hair that long. I interrogated him until he cracked. I repeat, what did you do to my cousin?"

"That's personal."

"Personal? Would you like to _personally_ explain to me why Edward was high as a kite one week and camping out in the library the next? Or why he was so upset about finding a key because somehow that meant you really weren't coming back? Care to tell me _personally_ why the villagers are saying that you've run off with Garrett to London? Garrett! Of all people! Were you two-timing my cousin?"

Bella frowned. _Why would the villagers_...then she remembered the times she had been spotted with Garrett in public.

"I'm not with Garrett."

"Well, no use telling _me_! Edward's disappeared to his hidey hole where there's no mobile phone reception and no one can reach him. He actually took leave from work! He _never_ takes leave from work! The man's _such_ a workaholic when he was quarantined to his room for suspected swine flu he worked from his bed the whole time!"

The information overwhelmed Bella. She had been distraught and angry when she left her resignation letter and the key for Edward to find. The rash act was, at the time, her way of punishing him for deceiving and using her, her means of having the last word in the situation. Now, realising that she had really hurt him, she was flooded with regret.

She felt the need to justify her actions to Alice somehow.

"Alice, you know about the river rights suit between our families?"

"Yes, yes of course. Two-hundred-year-old feud. You sued us, we sued back. What of it?"

"Garrett said..."

"Garrett?" Alice's voice, which had been high with near-hysteria, dropped to a chilly low. Bella suddenly remembered that Garrett had once been involved with Alice. It had "ended badly", he said. "So the weasel is involved, is he?"

"Shall I tell you how I met Garrett?" Her tone was bitter. "It was many years ago. I was this little rebellious goth girl my parents sent to the countryside hoping that I wouldn't be able to get into any trouble there. It was the summer holidays and both Garrett and Edward were working on the estate for my uncle."

Alice looked out of the window at the milling crowd in the square below.

"I liked him straight away. He was just so different from my cousin. You know how Edward is - goody-goody, Boy Scout. Garrett was _fun_. He never judged, never disapproved and he could talk his way out of any trouble we got into.

"Edward tried to warn me about him but of course that just made me want him more. We got together and things became...strange. He talked about my family all the time. He wanted to come to the family dinners and events. It was like he was obsessed with the Cullens. One time, he even said that if Edward were gone, I would end up inheriting the estate. You know I lost my virginity to him? He wasn't gentle. Not at all. I was very drunk." Alice looked her in the eye. "I was sixteen."

"I supposed I finally got disillusioned with him. I broke up with him and he didn't go quietly at all. He told all the village boys about me...horrible, ugly things...I can only guess, Edward wouldn't tell me. Edward found him in the pub and hit him in front of everyone."

Her smile was sad and affectionate. "My Boy Scout cousin, in a pub fight. Anyway, I couldn't set foot in the village after that. The way they looked at me after what Garrett said...

"Isabella, I don't know what happened between you and Edward. But if Garrett had anything to do with it, then you should look at it again." She heaved a sigh and shook her head, as if shaking off the weight of her past.

"I have to go. Here's my card if you want to talk."

Alice paid for their untouched meals and disappeared after pressing her card into Bella's hand.

Bella walked back to Zafrina's flat in a daze. There were too many emotions warring in her – guilt, suspicion, anger, pity...and a little hope. Zafrina immediately dropped her paintbrush when she saw her face.

"Are you finally ready to talk?" Bella nodded mutely. Zafrina led her to the kitchen counter and produced 2 spoons and a tub of ice cream.

"So talk. It's a boy, isn't it?" Between bites of ice cream, Bella told Zafrina everything. Zafrina was a good listener, a loyal friend, and could be relied on for a brutally honest opinion. Bella realised how alone she really was in Forks.

After hearing the whole story, Zafrina was incredulous.

"Bella, I know we studied literature in university but this is ridiculous. Your life story sounds like the bastard love child of an unholy union between 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Pride and Prejudice', delivered by an amateur writer of a midwife who likes to quote A-level John Donne." Bella could not help chuckling between her sobs. Only Zafrina could make her laugh at a time like this.

"And 'Hamlet', don't forget 'Hamlet'. And maybe 'Moby Dick'." Bella added woefully.

"Why, is there a large mammal loitering in your life story somewhere?"

"Not yet, but there will be if I keep eating like this." They looked down at the now empty tub. After a moment's hesitation, Bella let Zafrina read Edward's intimate letter.

"Bella, let me get all the facts right. He wrote you a riddle so that you and only you, would find this letter."

"Yes."

"He planned a special weekend for the two of you."

"Yes."

"_He wants to meet your mother_."

"Yes."

"Bella," Zafrina's voice was careful. "Either he's a charming, scheming bastard or..."

"Or?"

"Or he's madly in love with you."

"Oh."

"What did he say when you confronted him about the lawsuit?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"I couldn't! I couldn't face him after everything..."

"Well, I think the man deserves a chance to explain." Zafrina added quietly. "He sounds really lovely actually. Never mind, take your time and mull it over. You'll know what to do." She rubbed Bella's back comfortingly. "Before I forget, you have mail, from your mother I think."

Bella's mother had returned to Forks from her holiday and started forwarding her mail to Edinburgh. Nestled amongst the bills and pleas for donations was a hand-addressed envelope, postmarked London. It looked innocuous enough, which was why Zafrina was surprised when her friend opened it and promptly burst into fresh tears.

"Are you alright? What's the matter?"

Bella could only gesture blindly at the letter. Zafrina scanned it quickly for the source of her friend's distress and only became more confused than ever. The letter, handwritten with a fountain pen, was old-fashioned and formal in tone. It appeared to be from an antiquarian bookseller in London. Zafrina imagined the author to be an elderly man in tweed poring over a leather-bound book in his dusty but charming bookstore. There was nothing of note in the letter, and she could not understand what could have upset her friend so. There was one slightly curious thing though. The bookseller had signed his name "J. Gatz". "J. Gatz" was the real name of Jay Gatsby from F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel but Zafrina supposed it to be pure coincidence.

For Bella however, the letter said much more. It was dated the day after she left Forks. Even at his low point, Edward had evidently taken great care to maintain the secrecy of their relationship. As with the riddle, he had counted on her to read between the lines. For the thousands of words that lay unspoken between them, on paper and ink, it was always perfectly clear. Every line cut into her like a fresh blade.

"I regret that our meeting was cut short unexpectedly..."

**_Why did you leave? _**

"...I appreciated our lively discussion on books and literature..."

**_I miss you._**

"A few issues were brought up but not resolved."

**_We're not done yet. _**

"I feel we should discuss the matter properly..."

**_Talk to me._**

"...imperative that we arrange another visit at the earliest opportunity."

**_Come back to me, come back._**

Bella dialled the number with shaking fingers.

"Alice! Please tell me where he is...I need to talk to him...I need to talk to Edward."

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Apologies for not being able to reply to reviews. Some major changes going on in my life right now and my health hasn't been the best. **


	16. The Confession

**Many thanks to VampiresHaveLaws for her rec on "Cracks in the Pavement".**

**Many thanks to Kitsu Shel for the kind mention in her interview with the Southern Fan Fiction Review.**

**Thanks for all the well wishes, I'm feeling much better. :) **

**This fic is rated M for Manorward. And sexual content.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16 – The Confession<strong>

_"I regret that our meeting was cut short unexpectedly..."_

**_Why did you leave? _**

"...I appreciated our lively discussion on books and literature..."

**_I miss you._**

"A few issues were brought up but not resolved."

**_We're not done yet. _**

"I feel we should discuss the matter properly..."

**_Talk to me._**

"...imperative that we arrange another visit at the earliest opportunity."

**_Come back to me, come back._**

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><p><strong><em>Summer, 2004<em> **

Shelly Cope looked down at the man-boy seated at her kitchen table, his broad shoulders hunched intently over her famous berry crumble. The trick to good crumble texture, she thought rather smugly to herself, was to rub the butter in by hand the old-fashioned way and give the topping mixture a quick blast in the freezer before baking. She heard that the Cullens' cook, competent as she was, was not fond of making traditional English puddings. The rumour seemed confirmed by the speed at which the boy was inhaling her crumble, which had been liberally doused with her home-made custard. In the Swan household where Shelly Cope reigned supreme as housekeeper and cook, there was a constant flow of puddings and baked goods, much to the consternation of the figure-conscious Renee Swan.

"Owww...I buurnt my tonngue..."

"Slow down you silly boy! The crumble's not going to grow legs and run away, you know."

"Only because you make the best puddings, Mrs Cope."

He turned the full beam of his gaze on her and broke into a heartbreaking grin. Shelly's breath caught. She noticed for the first time that his jaw was dense with stubble, and that his arms and shoulders looked strong, no doubt because of the rowing he had been doing at Oxford. When did the shy, gangly boy turn into this quietly handsome man? She had heard rumours in the village about his girlfriends at Oxford but never knew whether to believe them.

Shelly remembered the first time they met, so many year ago. She had been walking back to her cottage, arms laden with groceries when she slipped and fell. Shelly had been impressed by the calm concern shown by the precocious boy, then only eleven. So when he helped her up and insisted on carrying her groceries back for her, pointing out very reasonably, that she shouldn't strain her ankle further, she, Shelly Cope, had meekly complied. What began as tea and cake to thank a helpful boy became a summer ritual for them. He would knock on the door of her cottage on the summer weekends when he was home from boarding school; she would feed him whatever pie had been cooling on the sill and grumble about her work.

The truth was, Shelly needed to vent. Her workload kept increasing over the years as the Swans quietly reduced the size of their household staff by not replacing the ones who left. She couldn't complain to her staff; she was their supervisor and it would be unseemly. She couldn't talk to the villagers; the Swans hated to appear diminished in any way to the village. So she complained to him. The boy was discreet and attentive, a good listener. She sometimes felt slightly disloyal complaining to a member of the "rival" Cullen clan, but quickly brushed those feelings aside. The feud was ancient and silly anyway.

He thought he was being stealthy, but she noticed the way he leaned forward whenever she mentioned Bella. Silly boy. You couldn't hide anything from Shelly Cope. She wondered if it was cruel to encourage his little infatuation by talking so much about Bella. But she couldn't help herself, she loved the girl. Why, she practically brought her up. Of course the girl could be difficult; she was spoilt by her father, neglected by her mother. She could be stubborn and a little impetuous, too proud for her own good. But Bella was also clever, loyal, and had a good heart. At seventeen, she was blossoming into quite the little beauty, though she resisted all her mother's attempts to primp her.

She loved them both dearly. Would they be a good match? Shy, steady Edward. Headstrong, sharp-tongued Bella. She would swipe at him for sure, but the boy was no pushover. He would give as good as he got.

As she straightened her body, a heavy soreness settled on her back and would not go away. She felt the years in her bones and remembered her own dear John who passed away so long ago. Really, life was too short for all this hemming and hawing.

"You could just talk to her, you know."

The boy started, scoffed, and then looked down miserably at his spoon.

"You could talk to her about books. You have that in common."

Shelly knew he wouldn't. She patted him on the back and gave him a second helping of crumble with extra custard by the way of consolation.

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><p><strong><em>Spring 2011<em>**

The drive from Edinburgh to the Isle of Skye took six hours. After her phone call with Alice, Bella borrowed Zafrina's creaky little car with nothing more than her handbag and enough money for petrol and started driving north. The moment she decided to find Edward, the stifling weight that had been sitting on her chest lifted, and was replaced by an acute, palpitating anxiety. What if he did have something to do with her father's heart attack? What if...what if he didn't want her any more?

By the time she reached Skye, it was completely dark and raining heavily. She followed Alice's directions to the north-west of the island, making a few wrong turns off the narrow main road to even narrower lanes before she finally found the right one. It was pitch-black, and she could see no more than the few metres in front of her illuminated by the car beams. There was only one faintly lit window in the distance, and the little hope it gave her was all she had to cling on to as she turned onto the unmarked dirt track, vulnerable in her rusty steel shell, the wind and rain lashing from all sides, the stone and gravel crunching and bumpy beneath her.

The house sat on a slope and her little car would not make the incline in the mud. Bella decided to make a run for the house. The moment she stepped out of the car, she realised her mistake. The Hebridean gust nearly blew her off her feet and she discovered that Edward had not been exaggerating when he said the rain was horizontal. She smelled the sea rather than saw it - she must be near a cliff. The knowledge added to her sense of displacement and desolation, and she tried to fix her eye on the light in the window as she tripped and blundered her way up the slope, her hair and her coat growing more sodden by the second.

Adrenaline carried her up the slope, but it was the letter in her pocket that gave her the courage to pound on the heavy door.

The man who greeted her had bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothes and the beginnings of a neglected beard, but he still made her heart stop. He stood at the doorway, blinked impassively at her for several moments, stared at the glass of whisky in his hand, and then back at her.

"Edward."

The sound of his name broke him out of his trance. His good sense and manners prevailed and he quickly stepped aside to let her in and took her dripping coat.

The house was a converted crofter's cottage, whitewashed and sparsely filled with books and sturdy furniture. As with the library, the heart of the living room was the fireplace, around which two armchairs and a large sheepskin rug had been placed. Even with its few elements, the space, like the library, was undeniably Edward's. For some reason, Bella found that fact immensely comforting.

"Here." He handed her a towel for her hair and a cashmere blanket. "Sit by the fire. It's the warmest place in the cottage. I'll make you some tea."

It broke her heart how careful he was not to let their fingers touch when he handed her the tea. She curled up on the sheepskin rug and wondered how best to broach the subject she had come all the way to discuss.

He did not sit near her. He would not even look at her, choosing instead to pace back and forth along the far side of the small room. The blanket keeping her warm belonged to him. She was reminded of the fact every time she moved and the familiar smell of him enveloped her. Yet, its owner was so far away.

"I got your letter." Her voice was raspy from disuse.

He stopped pacing and braced his hand on the back of a chair.

"Yes. I wrote that...what was it? Weeks ago? Before I heard." He still would not look at her.

"Heard?"

"About you and Garrett. I wouldn't have believed the rumours, but your mother was quite happy to confirm to everyone that you two have been seeing each other."

"What? No! Edward! I wouldn't...Garrett and I were never together!"

For a long minute, all the movement she could see was the rise and fall of his chest as he stared at the chair-back he was clutching on to.

"Alright then. If it's not Garrett, why did you leave?" He finally looked at her. Any relief she felt was obliterated by the fury she saw in his eyes. "You resigned and just disappeared. After _everything_. After I've basically told you..."

It was time.

"You countersued my father, just before he died. I found the documents."

Edward frowned and then sighed. "Ah. That."

The pacing resumed. "When your father first started legal action, we didn't take it too seriously. The case had no merit anyway and we didn't want to antagonise a neighbour. But he kept dragging it out. Then things started happened. Building work that had been approved for months had to be stopped because someone complained to the council. Our farmhands were getting harassed by thugs as they left work. One of our small barns mysteriously burned down. Each incident coincided with correspondence from your father's camp. There would always be some small throwaway reference, of course nothing that could be pinned to them."

He clenched and unclenched his hands on the back of the chair, his face wearier than Bella had ever seen.

"We went to the local police of course. But they are used to dealing with missing animals, the occasional pub brawl, not arson and harassment.

"We changed the workers' schedules, made sure they travelled in groups, hired security for the first time. But Father thought we should also countersue to show that we wouldn't be intimidated. He was impatient with me that I hadn't been more aggressive earlier. I objected, but it's still his estate." He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"You've never told me any of this before." Could he be telling the truth? She resisted his words instinctively, but she also remembered that her father had lied to her about the state of their finances for years before his death.

"How could I bring it up? When we first met you were still mourning your father. Later, when things were going well between us, I couldn't...was that it then? Because we sued your father?"

Bella focused on the flames blazing on the blackened logs, her voice low. "My father suffered his heart attack the morning he received the countersuit letter from your lawyers."

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! We couldn't have known...I'm so sorry."

"No, you couldn't have known. Frankly, after what you've told me, I don't know what to think any more. I believe you, but my father...it doesn't sound like my father."

They had reached an impasse. Bella was relieved that it was Carlisle and not Edward who had initiated the countersuit. But could her father really have done those things to harass and provoke the Cullens? Could Alice's account of Garrett be trusted given that the incident took place years before and the relationship had ended acrimoniously? With Garrett's character now cast into doubt, she was no longer confident that the heart attack was directly caused by the Cullens' suit. What else had her father been involved in? She was too weary to take it all in.

"How did you find me?"

"I met Alice in Edinburgh." She added softly, "she told me about her and Garrett."

"So you understand what I meant when I said it wasn't my story to tell."

Bella nodded. She had one more question in her mind. "Garrett was the one who told me about the countersuit." She could feel the tension radiating from him across the room. "He also said that I was just your type. The latest in a long line of your _little brunettes_."

"And you believed him."

"It never made sense." It was her turn to look away. "It never made sense for you to _want_ me."

Edward finally approached her. He sank down to his knees on the rug in front of her, so that their eyes were level. He was so close she could see the flames from the log fire flickering in his eyes. So close she could reach out and cup his cheek.

"If I weren't a Cullen, and your name weren't Swan, if we were just Edward and Bella..."

He moved closer still. "Have I not shown you, in a thousand different ways, what you mean to me?"

She tried to turn away, but he wouldn't let her. "Bella, if there's no hope, don't leave me hanging. Tell me now, _what am I to you_?"

She stared back at him, pleading silently. _Don't make me say it. Please don't make me._

"I need the words."

She knew she was lost. She knew the moment she got into the car. She knew the moment she read his letter.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. Even that little bit of contact felt like..._home_. She was a coward, she knew. She would lose her nerve if she had to look at him.

She whispered the three words like a secret. It was at once the confession of a proud woman and a plea for mercy from a frightened little girl who had nothing but her pride left to lose.

She felt the air rush out of him, but he remained frozen. _Say it back, _she wanted to shout.

Just as she was about to pull away, she was stilled by a gentle hand on one cheek, and then another. The first brush of his mouth against her upper lip made her gasp. The second, a slow graze along her lower lip sent a tremor down her body. By the time he finally pressed both his lips against hers, she was near collapsing with the relief, hope and fear overwhelming her body. He steadied her with one hand on her back, crushing her body against his. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His mouth was as sweet as she remembered, only more urgent.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers and said the words back, only this time, he looked straight into her eyes. Maybe because he had never been afraid to tell her, or perhaps it was because he had waited so long to say them.

She stood up on the sheepskin and began tugging at the buttons on her top, eyes never leaving his.

"My clothes are soaking wet. I could catch hypothermia." Her clothes were barely damp. Her coat had taken the brunt of the storm.

"Hypothermia is a serious problem around these parts," he concurred. "You should take good care of your health." He swallowed as he watched the pieces of garment fall onto the rug.

One moment, she was standing on the rug. The next, she was in the middle of the bed, being pressed into its soft depths by the weight of his body.

She was naked. He was trying to get naked. She might have helped, she wasn't sure. It was chaos. Lips kissing bare skin, fingers tearing at clothes, bodies trying desperately to get closer, but never close enough.

His stubble left marks on her neck, her breasts, her stomach but she didn't mind. The Edward in her fantasies was always clean-shaven. The burn on her skin meant that this was real, that he was really here with her.

She had played this scene in her head a hundred times, but there were so many details that her imagination had left out.

Like the way his lips parted when he was fully inside her for the first time.

Or the pleasure and the sting between her legs that made her dig her nails into his arms when he finally started moving.

The way his body caged hers.

His skin, his smell, his breath, on her.

His heat, around her, inside her.

She stared at his face, all tension and restraint. She wanted him. She wanted everything he was holding back. "Edward." She touched his mouth. "Take it. It's yours."

He stilled his movements and gently repositioned her legs. It exposed her to him in a way that would have made her blush if she still had her senses about her.

He lowered himself to give her a deep, bruising kiss. "I waited. I waited years for you." He whispered against her mouth.

She began to wonder about his words but the force of his thrust knocked the breath out of her. The raw power latent in his body, which she had only ever caught hints of, was now focused entirely on her. A feral energy took over. It guided his body into her slowly, deliberately, before releasing it forward in a surge of power, hitting her in a spot so sweet, her toes curled and her world went black. He drove her into the bed over, and over.

She clawed at him. She screamed until she was hoarse. She pushed back at him, not to make him stop, but so she could feel him overpower and consume her. She fought it and chased it, so that when she came, it was both violent and unexpected.

When it was over, she wrapped her sweaty limbs around him and wouldn't let him go.

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><p><strong>AN**:

In the scene with Mrs Cope, Edward was around 21, Bella 17. Though he had always been fascinated by her, he did not start having romantic feelings for her until she was 17 and he realised she wasn't a little girl anymore (Chap 8). Nothing dodgy or underagey going on around here.

Their reunion kiss gave you deja vu? It's a deliberate echo of their first kiss in Chap 6.

I only realised afterwards there are a couple of similar bits between the sex scenes here and in "**There is a Light**". One is a coincidence, one's possibly not, but of course **belladonnacullen **is a much, much, much superior writer.

Assume safe sex. I leave the details to your imagination, if you like imagining that sort of thing.

Thanks for reading.


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